Chapter 18: The Birth of a Music Center

On Monday, September 12, 1921, the Eastman School of Music opened its doors to students, one hundred and four of them "regulars" of whom fifty-nine were candidates for certificates and forty-five were aspirants for a bachelor's degree; women outnumbered men in a ratio of seven to one. Over 1,200 entered as special students or in the preparatory department.

"As I think back on the years I spent at the Eastman School (1921-23)...," one of the earliest matriculants has written, "I remember the variety of sounds--first, building sounds--hammers--drills--rivets. Next, wood fragrances--new lumber--resin--sawing--measuring--window panes with labels stuck firmly to the glass. And then all the musical sounds that emanated from the freshly, painted and varnished studios--scales played in all types of rhythms and speed.... Vocalizing... a snatch of an aria.... Through the corridors--a variety of Homburg hats--a suit cut in a foreign style--fur collars that one saw only on European men--these were our visiting professors...."

After commenting on the talented teachers under whose guidance she studied, the writer, concluded, "It was a colorful and wonderful time...I feel very lucky to have been part of this illustrious background." 1

The opening of the School, presently to be matched by the completion of the adjoining Kilbourn Hall and the Eastman Theatre heralded a new era not only in the evolution of the University and in the cultural life of metropolitan Rochester, but also served as a milestone in the history of American musical education. It signified, too, the culmination of a full century of concern for music in the community beside the Genesee.

Even in the frontier period, knots of Rochesterians manifested interest in the realm of music, the international "language of the emotions." 2 As early As 1820 the local press announced a "concert at meeting house on Sunday next. Performance at 6...admittance two shillings. A pianoforte is expected to accompany the musick. Performance to consist of anthems, solos, duets, etc." Short-lived Rochester bands, an Academy of Sacred Music, and a Mechanics Musical Association presented concerts in churches, taverns, or in the open air. As would be true for decades to come, the best music in the city was mostly heard in churches, the quality improving when circumstances permitted the acquisition of better organs and the employment of more accomplished choir leaders.

Visiting European artists gave recitals to appreciative audiences, which turned larger after the commodious Corinthian Hall was constructed. One Joseph Dundonie of Paris played (1845) a "componeum quintette," comprising "a perfect band of ten instruments and twenty-five bells." Exceptionally popular was the Norwegian master, Ole Bull (Borneman), whose violin programs repeatedly packed Rochester halls, and Jenny Lind, "the Swedish Nightingale" proved an even greater attraction.

In the meantime, local bands flourished, such as the one that habitually headed the early U. of R. Commencement processions, and choral societies and amateur orchestral ensembles attained importance. Musical culture in every form was substantially advanced by German immigrants, who, though peasants in the main, were singularly fond of music. From time to time, formal classes in choral and instrumental music were organized. Yet private teachers furnished most of the musical instruction and by the end of the nineteenth century as many as one hundred of them were at work.

Professional and amateur players combined forces in 1865 to form the city's first symphonic ensemble, the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra. With Henry Appy, a European violinist who had come to the New World in the entourage of Jenny Lind, as conductor, the Orchestra, which at its peak counted about fifty performers gave concerts of quality, serious music into the mid-1880's. Appy also taught violin, especially to the Dossenbachs, Hermann, Otto, and Theodore, the foremost personalities in Rochester music before the advent of the Eastman School. Local singing societies and bands (some of them styled orchestras) offered popular concerts, especially in the summer months. Individual artists and troupes regularly visited Rochester, presenting a varied fare, not excluding Gilbert and Sullivan comic operas. An occasional Rochesterian of talent went to Europe to round out his musical training and city newspapers appointed music critics to their staffs.

Musical culture progressed notably after the organization of the Tuesday Musicale, whose records repose in the Sibley Music Library of the Eastman School. Founded about 1890 by a set of cultivated ladies, the Musicale attracted several hundred members and, in addition to sustaining its own chorus and bringing in lecturers on good music, sponsored concerts by orchestras or operatic companies from leading American cities and by celebrated vocal and instrumental musicians of the day. It ceased to exist only after the Eastman music center had come into being.

Under the leadership of Hermann Dossenbach, for half a century a key figure in the story of music in the Genesee community, a small orchestra of experienced players was formed in 1900. Though plagued by financial troubles, this ensemble evolved into the Rochester Orchestra, and among its consistent and warm supporters was University President Rush Rhees. He accepted the headship of a Musical Council in 1911 made up of representatives of Rochester music societies, the newspapers, civic leaders, and the public at large. The Council coordinated musical offerings in the city, carried on publicity for the Orchestra, and solicited funds for it from community- minded concertgoers; Rhees also collected money to enable Dossenbach to go abroad for a year in order to deepen his musical proficiency.

Several internationally admired artists appeared as soloists with the Rochester Orchestra, which now and then united its resources with a Community Chorus, four hundred voices strong, in public festivals of music. The Chorus aspired to win preeminence for Rochester among American cities in civic singing; picnic suppers normally preceded the mass sings, which attracted audiences of tens of thousands. Dissatisfied with existing halls for concerts, in which seats were uncomfortable and acoustics bad, a group of citizens deliberated (1916) on a project to construct an auditorium designed particularly for musical performances. 3

Formal instruction Formal instruction in the musical arts, meantime, had taken a novel turn with the establishment of a Rochester Conservatory of Music. In 1910, an experienced master of music, George B. Penny, organist, choral conductor, and teacher of theory accepted the directorship of the Conservatory. His negotiations with Rhees to create a department of music at the U. of R. ran into sand, though unfettered use of the University's resources of musical books and scores was granted to the Conservatory and Penny took charge (1911) of the men's Glee Club at the college.

A concert pianist of Norwegian antecedents, Alf Klingenberg, who emigrated to America in 1902 and taught in the West, entered the Conservatory faculty in 1912, and the following year he allied with Hermann Dossenbach (later Oscar Gareissen, a Rochester church organist, became an associate) in setting up what came to be called the Institute of Musical Art. It acquired a small home on Prince Street, directly across from the University property, and major recitals of pupils were held in a University room. Rhees and several University trustees belonged to the board of advisors of the Institute.

An able faculty, mostly part-time, was enlisted. Course offerings embraced piano, violin, voice, orchestral instruments, organ, the history and literature of music, rhythmic and folk dancing, public school music, and one section catered to children. For employed men and women classes were conducted in the evening. Pupil response was encouragingly large, and the Institute supplied performers and concerts to clubs in the Rochester area. Nonetheless, the Institute faced endless financial perplexities, and its temporary charter, issued by the State, was due to expire in 1918.


The Rochester Orchestra and other musical enterprises of the early twentieth century benefited from the patronage of the affluent industrialist, George Eastman. Fond of music though he had become, he could neither read music not play an instrument; he referred to himself, indeed, as a "musical moron." Notwithstanding his limited knowledge of music, Eastman had an excellent organ installed in his East Avenue mansion, which his personal organist customarily played at breakfast and dinner. Besides, in a manner reminiscent of aristocratic European families of an earlier century, he engaged a string quartet, led for a time by Hermann Dossenbach, which gave formal programs of chamber music once a week. As many as a hundred guests listened and ate supper between the two parts of the recitals; frequently Eastman heard complete programs all alone. Though he declined to join the committee that backed the Rochester Orchestra, Eastman accepted a seat on the board of directors of the Metropolitan Opera in New York City.

Professional musicians who knew Eastman and his tastes intimately interpreted his affection for the art as a genuine passion, as welcome relaxation from business cares. While he thoroughly enjoyed the thunderous productions of Richard Wagner, he found Johann Sebastian Bach unpleasing, and had little liking for the twentieth century composers later than Claude Debussy.

Since music nourished and enriched his own life, Eastman decided that the pleasure should be shared with his fellow citizens. For many Americans "leisure is unfruitful," he thought, "because it is not used productively.... " Opportunities to hear good music could fill the void. "Music has become a factor in contented and happy community life," Eastman remarked, "therefore, it is worth the attention of any business man.... An interest to make leisure profitable is something that enlightened business cannot ignore.... " And again, "I used to think that music was like lace upon a garment, nice to have but not necessary. I have come to believe that music is absolutely essential to our community life." Finally, he said, "The average Philharmonic Orchestra costs... $200,000 a year. Probably more. And plays to perhaps that many people. Perhaps fewer....I am interested in... an orchestra that will bring symphony music to millions."

These observations reflected the multimillionaire's authentic, intelligent, and sustained interest in the betterment of the way of life in the Rochester community. There was an element of civic pride in his outlook "I should like to see Rochester become a great musical center, known throughout the world," he commented. Additionally, he was concerned to promote education in the broadest sense of the term. Undoubtedly, Alf Klingenberg, his wife, and Hermann Dossenbach had a good deal to do with the Eastman decision to further the musical arts on a grand scale. 4

Out of a clear sky, apparently, Eastman inquired of Rhees in 1918 whether he would like to have a school of music affiliated with the University. It seems evident that the President had previously been lukewarm with regard to a professional school in music no less than in law. Yet he responded affirmatively to the Eastman overture, with the provisos that the school should be adequately endowed and so obviate the necessity of a large registration to meet expenses, and second, that standards of achievement in the proposed school should be of collegiate quality.

Without fanfare, Eastman purchased the property, equipment, and corporate rights of the, hard-pressed Institute of Musical Art and turned them over to the University. Other Rochester patrons of music pledged to underwrite for five years any deficit the Institute might incur.

Since the New York State educational authorities questioned whether the U. of R. charter permitted the operation of a school of music, the Regents amended the document, broadening the educational orbit "to both college and university in character and scope." The University might establish and maintain "undergraduate and graduate college departments, professional, technical, vocational, and other departments." Specialized "departments" might be designated as schools with suitable names and with their own managerial bodies; and appropriate degrees might be conferred.

Full time student attendance at the University's school of music bounded up to 555. Holders of a diploma from a four-year secondary school by combining prescribed college subjects with music studies could earn a bachelor's degree in music in four years. If students preferred not to take college courses, they could obtain a diploma in music after four years of instruction, as from the older Institute--or a certificate if they withdrew after two years.

Presently--in 1919--came the exciting news that Eastman would construct a splendid new school of music to which a great concert hall would be connected. 5


For the projected center of musical training and entertainment, Eastman acquired a tract at the southeast corner of Gibbs and Main Streets; Barrett Place (or Alley) formed the boundary on the Gibbs Street side, and the property extended along Main Street almost to Swan Street. Owing to the excessive price demanded by the owner of the land on the southwest corner of Main and Swan, Eastman refused to buy it (though it was purchased by the University in 1961), and that necessitated significant revisions in the original plan of construction. A second parcel of land on the east side of Swan Street was also bought. Buildings on these areas were razed, many fine residences along Gibbs Street coming down.

It was decided that the music school and a small concert hall would occupy the south end of the property, while a theatre with a large auditorium would be erected on the north side. Musical entertainment would be furnished in the great concert hall one day of each week, and for six days it would be used as a cinema house de luxe, imitative of motion picture theatres in New York City, in that film showings would be accompanied by performances of good music and ballet. This feature of the whole enterprise was dear to the heart of Eastman, who reasoned that many moviegoers would thereby develop a taste for music of quality and thus patronage of symphonic concerts and opera would be enlarged. 6

Planning of the vast edifice was entrusted jointly to McKim, Mead, and White, a leading New York City architectural firm, and to Gordon and Kaelber, Rochester architects. A Rochester company, A. W. Hopeman and Sons, was chosen as general contractor. By St. Patrick's day of 1919 preliminary overall plans had been designed, but before construction was finished many revisions had been made; from first to last, some 2,500 blueprints were drafted covering every feature of the huge complex.

To get ideas, architects inspected many American schools of music, concert halls, and cinema houses. Eastman personally visited several institutions and supplied the builders with detailed instructions on plans and their execution. Between competing designs for the principal entrance to the theatre, for instance, Eastman chose one which placed the doors at the corner of Main and Gibbs; so furious was the McKim firm by the rejection of its recommendation that the theatre face on Main Street that it threatened to withdraw completely from the project, but, through the tactful intervention of Eastman's friend, Frank L. Babbott, reconsidered and agreed to design the facade and the interiors of the two concert halls. Thinking that the seating capacity planned for the theatre might exceed current needs and anxious to avoid a "barn-like" atmosphere, Eastman proposed a semi-permanent curtain to cut off the top level.

During the construction Eastman stopped at the site almost every day, and he was saluted as the master architect, as had been true of Hiram Sibley when the library on the Prince Street Campus was rising. To erect and equip the building, Eastman "spent money like water," Rhees wrote; the President, too, kept a supervisory eye on construction, as did George W. Todd, Rochester industrialist, an original member of the managerial board, and a central figure in the expansion of the University as a whole. Clarence A. Livingston, who was intimately associated with the, construction of the musical center, subsequently became its general superintendent; in 1927 he took a similar position for all University properties, remaining until 1950.

No fewer than twenty-seven Rochester firms shared in the construction and equipment of the center, supplying all manner of products from structural steel to wood carving, and nine companies from outside of the city also participated. Between 500 and 700 Rochester workmen were employed.

Delays in the arrival of materials and labor troubles interrupted progress in construction. Following a strike, the pay envelop of workmen carried a sketch of the complex as it would look upon completion and a statement that "this building is not being erected for profit." Whatever money was left over from the construction fund or was earned by movies in the big auditorium would be devoted to the provision of "musical education and entertainment for yourself and your children at the lowest practical rates" and for no other purpose. As another means of cultivating esprit de corps among the artisans, a "Building Progress Bulletin" made its appearance in September, 1920, and was published now and then until all work was finished. Readers were reminded that the structure was being erected "for yourself and your children and your children's children."

Reluctantly, Eastman acquiesced in the assignment of his name to the School and the Theatre. Jocularly, he inquired of a long-time friend who recommended that the donor should be commemorated in art form, "Would it not satisfy your portrait aspirations if I should be sculpt'd heroic size for one of the figures on the roof, with a camera in one hand and a horn in the other ?..." At the summit of the Theatre facade an inscription, devised by Rhees, "For the enrichment of community life," proclaimed the supreme objective of the music center. By the terms of the Eastman gift (which with an endowment for the School approached $6,500,000, excluding the cost of constructing the Theatre, nearly $3,000,000 more) ownership of the property was vested in the University, of which the School would be an integral division, but management was entrusted to a small, separate, self-perpetuating board, subject to nominal approval by the University trustees. Eastman, who selected the original board, had a place on it as had Rhees and Todd, who served as the first chairman. It was charged with the promotion of musical culture in Rochester generally. 7

For the dignified exterior of the entire edifice, the Italian Renaissance style was freely adapted and Indiana limestone was used. Rusticated masonry was applied on the first story, and above that the principal wall was divided by windows and Ionic pilasters, surmounted by a cornice in a classic pattern. The whole was topped off by a crest of metal and a tiled roof. Columns of Vermont marble were set over the main entrances to the School and to the auditorium. A long marquee, on which attractions would be advertised, stretched across the width of the sidewalk, affording protection to patrons from inclement weather. Powerful projectors could flood the entire building with brilliant light.

On the first floor of the School, a broad corridor traversed the whole length of the structure; pilasters separated the walls into panels. Administrative offices and a temporary library fronted on the corridor. Considering its spaciousness, it is not altogether surprising that this portion of the School in the early years was sometimes assumed to be something it was not. Raymond S. Wilson reports, "After being seated for more than an hour in the main corridor... a rather elderly woman, laden heavily with baggage, arose and went to the information booth. Mistaking the School for a railway terminal she expressed surprise [that] the Empire State Express had not yet been announced!

From the east end of the corridor a fine staircase passed through twin columns of gray Sienna marble and led to a corridor on the second level; treads and risers were made of gray Tennessee marble and the balustrades of cast bronze. Walls of the upper corridor were divided by pilasters of brown marble; lower down was wainscoting of buff-colored marble imported from Italy. Two noble white marble pillars stood at either end of the corridor, while a band of black and white marble circled it just above the floor level. Paintings, some of them to be borrowed periodically from the Memorial Art Gallery, would be here displayed. The corridor, like the one below connected by doorways with the Theatre, ran the full extent of the building. It would serve as a promenade during concert intermissions and be used for School dances and other social functions.

Off the corridor to the south and on two upper floors were faculty studies, classrooms, and studio and practice rooms. Other practice and tuning rooms were laid out in the basement, where storage space was reserved for orchestral scores; an attic above the fourth level remained vacant. School equipment was of the best, including nearly forty (soon increased to over one hundred) pianos, two (later thirteen) organs, and a special organ to train students to play in cinema houses. When the first students arrived, School facilities were not yet finished, and until February of 1922 pupils and teachers gained access to classrooms through a wooden gangway proceeding from Gibbs Street to an elevator that lifted them to the third and fourth levels.

At the southwest corner of the first floor corridor, an exquisite hall was erected as an adjunct to the School. A memorial to the donor's mother, Maria Kilbourn Eastman, it was named Kilbourn Hall. This beautiful room was noted for choice walnut panelling on the lower part of the side walls, while the upper third of stone was draped with blue tapestries stencilled with patterns in gold; heavy beams studded the panelled ceiling, embellished in blue and gold. A grille over the proscenium arch emitted music from a great four-manual organ (enlarged in 1951). The acoustics of Kilbourn Hall, which was equipped for motion pictures, were flawless. Seats for 512 listeners were arranged in a Roman-style amphitheatre with rising tiers so that everyone could see the stage without obstruction; light was furnished by small windows and by chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Concerts, of chamber music, recitals by faculty and students, and School assemblies would be held here.

For the formal dedication on March 3, 1922, 2,000 guests crowded into Kilbourn Hall or followed the ceremonies in the adjoining foyer or in the School corridor. Rhees spoke a brief tribute of appreciation to Eastman and Professor Slater composed a poem for the auspicious occasion, reading in part:

Here shall music have a home,
Here shall many lovers come,
Seeking at her inner shrine
Meanings intimate divine...
In this consummated whole
Rochester shall find a soul...

Two days of musicales featuring the Kilbourn Quartet, music-makers in Eastman's home, completed the gala celebration.

Seven months later, on Labor Day, September 4, 1922, the magnificent Eastman Theatre, not quite completed, welcomed movie patrons for the first time. They saw a film, "The Prisoner of Zenda," listened to the theatre orchestra and vocal selections, and watched a ballet performance. Admission fees ranged from twenty cents to one dollar.

Starting in 1922 and continuing for nearly four decades, the Rochester Federation of Churches conducted its annual Thanksgiving Day service in the Theatre; it was also used for big civic and community gatherings and for the graduation exercises of Rochester high schools. Similarly, from 1923 onward for thirty years, University Commencement ceremonies were staged in the Theatre, and it was the setting for occasional all-University convocations and for the installation of three University presidents.

The walls of the spacious, gracious, oval-shaped lobby of the Theatre were finished in Botticino marble, interrupted by six black marble columns and doorways leading to the auditorium. Half a dozen mural paintings decorated the lobby, one a copy of "The Reconciliation of Venus and Psyche," commissioned originally by Napoleon I. Travertine stone, imported from Italy, covered the floor, on which were placed seats of carved marble and a matching table. Two circular panels adorned the slightly domed ceiling, and two chased bronze tripods and electrical fixtures attached to wall pilasters supplied light. An ample foyer led into the, majestically proportioned auditorium, which could accommodate 3,352 patrons--l,848 on the first level, over 400 in the mezzanine gallery (Eastman reserved seats for himself and his personal guests here), and nearly one thousand in the grand or upper balcony. To the rear of mezzanine and balcony, extensive foyers were provided, along with smoking, powder and cloak rooms. An elegant stairway gave access from a west side foyer off the main floor to the promenade corridor above.

Throughout the Theatre comfortable upholstered seats were installed; no boxes or posts prevented a full view of the stage, and acoustic and ventilation arrangements were as perfect as scientific ingenuity could make them.

To enhance the charm of the vast auditorium, the walls were embellished with eight mural paintings, depicting ensembles of figures symbolizing the varied types of music set against backgrounds of Italian landscape. Four colorful panels on the left wall looking toward the stage represented festival, lyric, martial, and sylvan music--the handwork of Ezra Winter, an artist of national renown, who had general supervision over the color schemes and decorations of the entire music center. On the opposite wall, paintings by Barry Faulkner, an older and gifted decorator, symbolized sacred, hunting, pastoral, and dramatic music. Bas reliefs above the murals, in the form of children and musical instruments, were created by the sculptor Paul Jennewein, trained at the American Academy in Rome. Higher up the cornice was decorated with arabesque patterns of harps and shields, scrolls, and winged sea-horses. For circular niches in the walls near each side of the stage, a youthful sculptor, Leo Friedlander, created heroic gilded busts of Ludwig van Beethoven and Johann Sebastian Bach (no favorite of Eastman's), and portrait medallions set into the balcony rail recalled fifteen other celebrated composers. The generously ornamented proscenium arch bore a shield with the legend "U. of R.," supported on either side by an unusual ornamental figure holding a torch.

Rounding out the wealth of artistic treasures, Maxfield Parrish, whose fairyland vistas had made him one of the best-loved American artists of the forepart of the twentieth century, painted "The Interlude," placed at one end of the grand balcony foyer; Eastman thought the picture was "very strong, simple, forceful." Close by were a decorative fountain showing a cherub toying with an alligator, and an allegorical Renaissance painting by Luca Giordani whose voluptuous feminine figures aroused a good deal of controversy. It was acquired from the recently dismantled residence of a New York City banker.

From the coffered, domed ceiling of the Theatre hung a handsome massive chandelier composed of some 20,000 pieces of crystal, backed, by a gilded sunburst. Two steel cables, capable of supporting a weight vastly greater than the two and a half ton fixture, held the chandelier in place, and as an added safety precaution a heavy chain was installed. Made in Europe this chandelier supplied most of the illumination, and indirect lighting at intervals on chairs along aisles enabled patrons to read concert programs with comparative ease. Shortly before the formal opening, Eastman ordered that more lights should be installed toward the rear of the upper balcony. Since there was not enough time to obtain conventional fixtures, galvanized steel washtubs, skillfully disguised by lavish ornamentation sprayed with bronze, were hastily fitted with light sockets. Eastman liked the ingenious improvisation so well that he insisted they should not be altered--and the washtub chandeliers remained in place.

While the stage was large, it was less spacious than had been envisaged in the preliminary planning; off from it were sixteen dressing rooms for performing artists and facilities for one hundred orchestra players. Until 1926 warmth for the entire music center was supplied by a plant on the east side of Swan Street; thereafter, heat was purchased from the Rochester Gas and Electric Company. 8

Small wonder, take it all in all, that a contemporary artist spoke of the Theatre as "the most beautiful, the most dignified, and most tasteful structure" for music in the United States. It impressed the world famous Polish pianist, Ignace J. Paderewski, as the finest temple of music in which he had ever performed.

The Eastman munificence and the facilities it financed elicited applause from the press and music journals all across North America and to a degree in Europe. To a bilious critic, however, the whole undertaking, the vision of transforming the Flower City into an American Milan, was dismissed as "the world's greatest experiment in attempting to exchange money for culture." 9


Experience dictated several minor alterations in the equipment of the School and Theatre, but little was changed without Eastman's explicit sanction. Even minute details of the physical plant engaged his attention, though he seldom intervened in the educational policies and practices of the School. Installation of penny vending machines for drinking cups in the School, the substitution of more melodious chimes for curtain calls in the Theatre lobby and the School corridors, a refrigeration system to cut down summer temperatures in the theatre, a storage vault to hold the records of the School and Theatre and the blueprints of new University buildings were each and all approved by him. He even ordered an investigation to ascertain whether the expense of lighting the great chandelier in the Theatre--the cost ran to $2.88 an hour--could be reduced.

A communication from Eastman to Livingston, superintendent of the center read, "Before you get the new screen for the Theatre, please consult Mr. Jones at the Kodak Park Research Laboratory. They have just worked out a new formula for paint that may be useful." When a concertgoer complained to Eastman of a cold draft on her feet while attending a performance, he issued instructions that the fault should be promptly remedied.

"As soon as my elephant head is finished," he also wrote, "I shall be glad to include it and my black and white rhino and half a dozen other specimens that I got on my last African trip" for exhibition in the promenade corridor of the School. "The White and Black Rhinos,'' he instructed, "should be hung on the same wall so that they can be compared."

Since the facilities for teaching soon proved inadequate, two annexes were erected along Swan Street. The first, of five stories, adjacent to the Theatre and available in 1924, furnished space principally for orchestral rehearsals, ballet training, and the preparation of properties for operatic spectacles; a runway crossed over to the stage entrance of the Theatre. Executives of the School and Theatre were assigned garage space on the ground level; Eastman, Rhees, and Todd on concert nights parked their cars in the heating plant. 10

Ten days before he took his life, Eastman wrote, "I am returning the key... as it is not likely that I will want to use the Swan Street garage any more...."

The second annex, a ten-story structure built in 1926 and linked to the School by a covered bridge, greatly enlarged the number of classrooms, studio and practice rooms, and contained a special area for the opera department, a gymnasium, and a laundry. For a few years, the former home of the Institute of Musical Art on Prince Street was used as a dormitory for women students, but in 1925, as is related later, residence halls for women along University Avenue were completed and the old Institute building thereafter served as living quarters for a few men students.

Scarcely had the Music Center been opened than certain citizens demanded that since patrons paid to attend movie shows in the Theatre, the structure should be taxed--to the tune of about $50,000 annually. From the standpoint of the University, the Theatre was "essentially an educational enterprise," in a real sense a laboratory for the School--the two were veritably Siamese twins--and any profits that might accrue from motion picture showings would be applied to musical purposes. Reasoning thus, the University authorities claimed tax exemption. So thoroughly nettled was Eastman by the threat of taxation that he was heard to say, " If they succeed in taxing this Theatre I will go down with hammer and nails and close the doors myself; " alternatively, he suggested that the Theatre might be leased to a commercial entertainment company. The Rochester press rallied to the support of the University, helping to shape public sentiment against taxation.

At a hearing on the case before the State Tax Commission, Eastman, congenitally a reticent person, talked for two hours, setting forth in detail his hopes for the growth of musical culture in the community. He argued that it was as necessary to teach people to use leisure to good purpose as to teach them to work. When the Commission ruled in favor of exemption, Eastman welcomed the decision as "a community victory," but the opposition took the controversy into court where its attorney described the Theatre as "a hobby dressed up in cap and gown under the patronage of learning." In the end, the Court of Appeals, the highest judicial body of the State, handed down a verdict that the Theatre was in fact operated for educational ends and hence was not subject to taxation. 11


In the meantime, praiseworthy progress had been made in equipping the school with one of the largest, finest, most comprehensive musical libraries in the United States. Collections of books on music and musical manuscripts acquired by Hiram W. Sibley of Rochester formed the solid nucleus of the library. A lover of music himself, Sibley in 1904 had been persuaded to collect musical works by Elbert Newton, organist of the Central Presbyterian Church, who acted as purchasing agent. In the capacity of "angel," Sibley wished a "working" collection of books without "frills and curiosities," and in the light of that, directive Newton concentrated on buying standard titles and a considerable quantity of "modern" music. The holdings were deposited in the Sibley Library, built by the donor's father, on the Prince Street Campus; Sibley paid the salary of a curator who issued a catalogue of the collection and supplements. Although any responsible Rochesterian might borrow books, circulation was not large, but used freely by students in the nearby Institute of Musical Art.

In January of 1922 the Sibley collection was transferred to the music center and installed in a large room at the southeast corner of the first floor corridor of the School. Known as the Sibley Musical Library, the growing collections remained there until the separate library building became available (1937). On a wall of the reading room a portrait of the benefactor was hung (along the corridor a likeness of Wolfgang A. Mozart looked down benignly on the passing scene), and a bronze tablet just inside the entrance read: "This Musical Library given by Hiram W. Sibley is for the use of all music lovers in Rochester." 12

A professional librarian, Barbara Duncan, who had studied voice and piano and had been in charge of the music room of the Boston Public Library, was engaged in 1922. A shrewd judge of musical works and their values, she undertook frequent purchasing missions to music centers in the United States and Europe. Upon her retirement in 1947, Ruth T. Watanabe, trained at the Eastman School (Ph.D., 1952), assumed the librarianship. 13

Under the direction of Miss Duncan, the resources were re-catalogued in keeping with the Library of Congress classification--a scheme presently adopted for other U. of R. libraries. Holdings were arranged in three sections: musical manuscripts, literature on music, recordings, and subsequently microfilms and microcards. Until his death in 1932, Sibley donated funds for fresh acquisitions, a sum of $50,000 being pledged in 1924; purchases were also made from School endowment income, and the Library was the recipient of many gifts of books and scores. From the Library of Congress, for example, came upwards of 8,000 of its duplicates, but only one in eight was regarded as worth keeping.

Year after year, rare copies of theoretical works (or facsimiles thereof) from the eleventh century onward, treatises, incunabula, and printed works were bought. So were original editions of the music of eminent composers from Palestrina to Bernard Rogers, their collected works, orchestral scores and chamber and instrumental compositions, and books on the related fine arts. Long runs of periodicals--one of the most complete collections in America--and other materials for research were steadily acquired, along with an extensive stack of literature on the history of music in the Rochester community.

Greatly prized were the manuscript of "Home, Sweet Home" by John Howard Payne, a diversified collection of over 3,000 volumes on French music and drama obtained (1923) from the French, biographer of celebrated composers and editor of the high-ranking Le Ménestrel, Arthur Pougin, and another (1929) lot of choice treasures from the Berlin library of the learned musicologist, Werner Wolffheim. Whereas at the time of the removal of the Library to the School, the resources amounted to 7,000 volumes, in 1947, the year of Miss Duncan's retirement, the collection had climbed to 55,000, and, by 1962 to 120,000 titles, excluding hundreds of items waiting to be accessioned; over 35,000 phonograph records had been accumulated. Owing to the excessive use (and abuse) of books by individuals unconnected with the School, restrictions on circulation had to be imposed (1942) upon borrowing by the general public. 14


Appointed Director of the School, Alf Klingenberg, who had presided over the Institute of Musical Art, set off for Europe to broaden his familiarity with the teaching methods and equipment of major conservatories and to enlist well-known, accomplished musicians for the staff of the Eastman institution. While he returned with an abundant harvest, his ambition to secure the services of the eminent Finnish master, Jean Sibelius, composer of "Finlandia" and "Valse triste," fell flat. Money-conscious, Sibelius had for $20,000 agreed to teach advanced theory and composition at the School for an academic year and to serve as guest conductor at five concerts of his own music in the United States. Stories circulated that he had been offered the directorship of the School, but that idea, Rhees remarked, "never entered our minds." Months after accepting the assignment, Sibelius changed his mind, and, avowedly because of ill health and absolute disinterest in teaching (especially in the English language), canceled the understanding.15

Anxious to obtain an internationally esteemed composer for the teaching staff, the Eastman School policymakers debated inviting two Russian artists, Alexander K. Glazunoff, the sole surviving member of the historic Russian national school, who was living in the Soviet Union, and Sergei Rachmaninoff, who had fled from his homeland. Instead, however, a bid was extended to and accepted by Christian Sinding, an elderly Norwegian friend of Klingenberg. Composer of a lengthy list of ingenious pieces for piano and violin, notably "Rustle of Spring," Sinding gave instruction at the School for a year in theory and composition, and by his skill as a musician and unaffected manners endeared himself to all who knew him. A countryman of Sibelius, Selim Palmgren, best known for small piano compositions, carried forward the teaching initiated by Sinding.

Other musicians of European antecedents on the or Other musicians of European antecedents on the original or early faculty stamped a distinctly cosmopolitan flavor on the School.16 To Pierre Augérias, a pianist's pianist from France, and as a soloist noted for smooth, sensitive interpretations, belonged the distinction of teaching the first lesson in the School. From Hungary came the gifted pianist Sandor Vas, no philosopher of the keyboard but as a concert artist an expert in the big dramatic gesture. Scottish Frederick Lamond, an unusually versatile performer, taught piano for a short period. The Frenchman Joseph Bonnet, perhaps the foremost organist of the time, offered instruction in his specialty to advanced students, and a second French musician, Abel M. Decaux, succeeded him. England contributed Thomas H. Yorke Trotter of the Royal Academy of London, who transplanted his rhythmic technique of teaching music to children in the New World. When he returned home, his assistant Marjorie Truelove Mackown remained to apply his system. For a year Swiss-born Ernest Bloch lectured on the theory of music.

Instructing in violin were two natives of Russia, Samuel Belov and Vladimir Resnikoff--the latter became concertmaster of the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra and later played with the Boston Symphony--Arthur Hartmann, a son of Hungary, and Paris-educated Gustav Tinlot, who was also concert-master of the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra. Teaching violoncello were Joseph Press, probably the leading cellist in the world, Gerald Maas, and Paul A. Kefer--all born and trained abroad. Most of these latter artists belonged to the Kilbourn (subsequently the Eastman) String Quartet which played weekly at the home of George Eastman.

For more than twenty years instruction in voice was given by the Briton Thomas Austin-Ball and by Nicholas Konraty from Russia. The art of orchestral conducting was taught by Arthur Alexander, a thoroughly Americanized New Zealander, and by Albert Coates and Eugene Goosens, Englishmen.

To the School from the former Institute of Musical Art came Director Klingenberg (piano), George Barlow Penny, who expanded his earlier instruction to embrace courses for any interested Rochesterian in the appreciation of church music and of music fundamentals, Harold Gleason, organ, recital performer and Eastman's personal organist, who subsequently taught musicology and musical literature, Lucy Lee Call, voice, who had sung Wagnerian roles at the Metropolitan, and Arthur M, See, who combined administrative responsibilities with teaching piano. From the Peabody Institute in Baltimore were drawn two much beloved teachers: Adelin M. C. Fermin, voice, who had been trained in his native Netherlands, and Max Landow, with a German background, who taught piano.

Among Americans who served with distinction for lengthy periods were Raymond S. Wilson, pianist and administrator, Herman Genhart, choir and choral conductor, Cecile Staub Genhart, Donald Liddell, George MacNabb, Harry Watts, pianists, Gerald Kunz, violin, Guy Fraser Harrison, organ and conducting, Emory Remington, trombone, and Edward Royce, composition. A native of Rochester, Marian Weed, sometime a pupil of the famous soprano Lilli Lehmann of Berlin and who had appeared in Wagnerian operas in Europe and America, taught voice and diction and served as adviser of women students. 17

For a relatively short period the School employed special teachers in organ for students who wished to play in motion picture theatres. Instructors in academic subjects at the School were chosen by and under the jurisdiction of the relevant departments of the Arts College. To handle public relations, Stewart B. Sabin, music critic on a Rochester paper, was retained part-time.

Rochester music lovers cordially welcomed senior members of the Eastman faculty and entertained them handsomely. Nevertheless, quite a few of the early teachers, who found the environment of the Flower City not to their liking for one reason and another, remained for only short stays; others lacked competence as instructors and were not reappointed. 18

On an experimental basis, the School engaged a psychologist, Hazel M. Stanton, who applied so-called Seashore tests to measure both in quality and quantitatively the musical aptitude of applicants for admission and their, capacity for growth. Since little of her time was required for testing, Dr. Stanton engaged in research on the psychology of music, which the University authorities did not regard as an essential function of the School; nor did they fancy her haughty posture toward the instructional staff. When dismissed in 1932, she appealed to the American Association of University Professors for redress; but its representatives after investigation ruled that there was no legitimate cause for action. 19

Instead of chairmen of departments, the School faculty was organized in terms of departmental committees, each having a secretary. The Director was an ex-officio, member of each committee, which was authorized to fix standards for admission of students, promotion, and graduation. A School Council with a representative from each departmental committee, was charged with resolving issues affecting two or more departments and with defining broad educational policies. 20

For the most part, the curriculum of the School perpetuated the comprehensive traditions of the Institute of Musical Art. Specifically, instruction was given in basic musicianship (harmony, counterpoint, and composition), piano, organ, violin and violoncello, voice and chorus singing, orchestra and ensemble playing, the history and literature of music, appreciation of music in general and of church music in particular, public school music, and dramatic expression.

Training was available for certificate and special students who concentrated on mature work in one or more branches of music, and for children who wished elementary instruction. Particular attention was devoted to candidates for a bachelor's degree in music, with about one quarter of the course in collegiate subjects: history, psychology, languages, comparative literature, and physical education. Certain of these studies were taken originally on the Prince Street Campus, others at the School, but eventually, the School obtained a teaching corps of its own for all non-professional subjects. The main body of instruction covered the theory of music, one or more areas of applied music, or preparation to teach the art of music in public schools.

Applicants for admission to the Bachelor of Music program were required to hold secondary school diplomas (or to have an equivalent educational preparation), to have been instructed for three years in the branch of music in which they desired t o specialize, and to demonstrate their potentialities in psychological tests. Candidates for a degree studied theory in each of their four years; Eastman teachers of theory experimented successfully, taking students where none had gone before. Other centers of musical education complimented the School by imitating techniques in teaching theory devised at Rochester.

Before the end of the first decade, honors work in theory was introduced and degrees or certificates with distinction were awarded to unusually proficient students. Work for a master's degree began in 1926 in composition and in musicology, broadly interpreted. Starting in 1922, summer studies designed primarily for teachers in public schools, were introduced and courses successfully accomplished were credited toward a bachelor's degree; private instruction in the summer was also available. 21


Irreconcilable cleavages between the Director and the Board of Managers on School policies and administration culminated in 1923 in the resignation of Klingenberg. His "right-hand man," Raymond S. Wilson, undertook the chores of administrator, while a search was instituted to find a permanent director. 22

Singularly clear-cut qualifications for the directorship were hammered out by the Managers. The appointee should be an American (or an English-speaking individual sympathetic to America), and willing to foster and promote music created in the United States without becoming narrowly provincial. Since the School formed a segment of the University, the Director should be a person broadly educated, as well as adequately versed in musicianship; he should be a man of unblemished character, tactful, a natural leader, with experience as an administrator of a professional school of music associated with a college. Not least, he should have wide musical interests rather than virtuosity in a specific area of the art. 23

Consultation with music experts at home and abroad yielded several candidates who satisfied the broad specifications that had been defined. Conductor Albert Coates, it appears, called the attention of the Managers to a twenty-seven year old American, Howard Hanson, who was eventually offered the challenging post of Director.

At the time, Hanson, who grew up in a small town of eastern Nebraska with the improbable name of Wahoo, was a Fellow of the American Academy in Rome. His compositions had attracted notice in musical circles and won him in open competition the coveted Prix de Rome --the first American honored in that way. Holding a Bachelor of Music degree from Northwestern University, Hanson had carved out a notable reputation as a teacher and as dean of the department of music and the fine arts in the College of the Pacific. The president of that institution commended him to Rhees as "a lovable, earnest young man," competent in instruction and as an administrator, and not handicapped by his youth "in either artistic or executive capacities." Critical acclaim in New York City and in Rochester for Hanson as an orchestral conductor strengthened the conviction in the managerial board that he would be a capital choice for the headship of the School.

Hanson responded favorably to overtures to become director for an academic year, with the question of extension of tenure to be decided later; actually, he remained in office for forty years and became indistinguishable from the Eastman School itself. "If I had listened to the advice of the people at the American Academy [in Rome]," he recalled, "I'd have turned the job down." They urged him to devote himself solely to composition and to teaching; and he frankly regretted that administrative tasks curtailed the time available for creativity in composition. 24

One day President Alan Valentine would bracket Hanson with Eastman and Rhees as an authentic founding father of the School, blessed with an "astonishing assortment of talents and tremendous energy." He took up his duties in the autumn of 1924 and promptly grappled with constructive improvements in administration, toning up the several departments of the School, and shaping its national image--if the term may be excused.

Out of experience at home and in Europe, Hanson had fashioned positive ideas on what the infant Rochester institution should and could become, and on its basic philosophy and educational standards. In his scheme of things, a professional musician needed a general education of mature quality if he was to grow properly as a man, as a technician, and as a performer. "The Eastman School is aiming at creating all-around musicians," Hanson announced, "instead of merely specialists in one branch or the other of music."

He rejected as outmoded the studio-conservatory heritage from, the Institute of Musical Art, which laid stress on preparatory and special (or certificate) students who sought training as performers with little or no attention to general education. What he wanted was a professional school of university grade emphasizing academic degrees, offering a rounded education, and preparing students for scholarly research.

And Hanson firmly believed that the School should generously encourage composition by American musicians. "The only thing to do," he declared in a vein reminiscent of Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is to make a clean break with European traditions and start to express ourselves without too much regard for the Old World for the Old World attitude...We must express our own life...." And again, "I am particularly interested in American music and musicians and I hope we are all going to be able to do something really constructive toward the advancement of composition in this country..." With impressive fidelity, Hanson held to these fundamental objectives throughout his long tenure of the directorship.

Expression of his aims, together with his discretion, vigor and friendliness with students and teachers, straightway convinced Rhees that "we have made an excellent choice for our great undertaking." So energetically did Hanson carry on, so unwilling was he to delegate responsibility to staff members, that within three years he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "You must talk to him like a 'Dutch Uncle,'" Rhees was advised. 25

More orderliness was introduced into the haphazard administration of the School, selection of students became more discriminating, levels of performance were raised, excessive absenteeism from classes was combatted and records of student achievement were better kept. Fluidity in the content of courses of the several departments was somewhat reduced, and meetings of the faculty, an area where talk usually thrives, assumed a little more importance, though they were held only a couple times a year, normally with Rhees in the chair, and transactions possessed a distinctly vague or perfunctory flavor. Great difficulty was encountered in teaching the teachers "to recognize that they are an organization instead of an aggregation of individuals...," the President wryly remarked. "Meeting closed promptly at one minute to 12 o'clock noon," a typical faculty record reads, "thirty-eight members were present, four arriving late, and four leaving early." By 1929, committees of the faculty had supervision over admissions, examinations, honorary scholarships, honors, and graduate study and advanced standing. To raise esprit de corps, Hanson strongly recommended provision of a faculty club or at least a lunchroom. 26


Aside from his manifold activities in Rochester, Hanson spoke to innumerable gatherings all across the United States in order to get publicity for the School and to attract talented students. His services were in constant demand, too, as a composer and guest conductor, here, there, and everywhere. Not less important in drawing national attention to the School were American Composers' Concerts and Festivals of American Music, sponsored by Hanson, and considered below. Probably no man of his generation surpassed him in promoting music created by Americans.

So greatly concerned was the Director with student welfare, so prized were his addresses at School affairs, so dedicated was he to the advancement of musical culture in Rochester that a veritable Hanson cult emerged among admiring young men and women and music-loving townspeople. Not every one connected with the School, it is true, regarded him as the best possible of all administrators; he was criticized because of inability to work cooperatively with some of his colleagues, because of the appointment of some mediocre teachers, and because of overemphasis on American music.

Despite the exacting demands of the directorship, Hanson added a rich treasury of compositions to the music he had written before coming to the Flower City. For instance, on commission by the Metropolitan Opera he produced the score for the opera "Merry Mount," set in Puritan New England, which was rapturously received (1934) by concertgoers at its premiere and less ecstatically welcomed by professional critics. To his credit, too, are choral ("The Lament of Beowulf") and "orchestral ("Nordic" Symphony) works, chamber and band music, songs, and pieces for piano and organ. For the hundredth anniversary of the U. of R., Hanson composed the score for a "Centennial Ode," and his Symphony No. 4 brought him (1944) a Pulitzer Prize. Along with many other prestigious awards, he was elected to membership in major musical societies and showered with honorary degrees. Many of his compositions were placed on records, and he con ducted the music for a large number of recordings by other artists. 27

As an author, Hanson contributed uncounted articles to musical journals and other periodicals. His most distinguished book, Harmonic Materials of Modern Music (1959), showed unusual familiarity with the resources and traits of twentieth century compositions together with mastery of contemporary techniques. An autobiography that he has on the stocks (1968) is awaited with keen anticipation.

Perhaps the most rewarding triumph of Hanson's career came as conductor of the Eastman Philharmonia on a memorable three-month tour of Europe and the Middle East in 1961-1962, understate Department auspices. Upon his retirement in 1964, he became the director of the Institute of American Music with headquarters at the U. of R.

His successor as School director, Walter Hendl, saluted him as "a man whose influence on the American musical scene, both national and international, has been indelibly etched," and to mark his seventieth birthday the School arranged a "Hanson Week," replete with concerts focused upon Hanson's own works, some of them directed by the composer. On this occasion, Hendl declared, "Howard Hanson put the Eastman School of Music on the map, establishing its unchallengeable position as one of the most significant institutions of its kind anywhere... the Eastman School enjoys a unique status as a center for the dissemination of music as well as the study of music." 28

Footnotes to Chapter 18

  1. Belle Sernoffsky Gitelman, Certificate, 1923, to A.J. May, December 11, 1966. Rhees Library Archives.
  2. Ernestine M. Klinzing, 1924, "Music in Rochester: A Century of Musical Progress, 1825-1925," Rochester History, XXIX (1967), no. 1. Musical affairs are extensively considered in the four volumes on the history of Rochester by Blake McKelvey.
  3. Slater, Rhees, pp. 183-188. Notebook, 1, March 2, 1922. Alida Lattimore, "Singing for Rochester," Survey, XXXIV (1915), 360-361.
  4. Howard Hanson, "George Eastman and Music," Eastman School Alumni Bulletin, III, no. 3, May, 1932. Harold Gleason, "Music in Mr. Eastman's Home," Ibid. The Scope, 1927, p. 14. Time, III, March 31, 1924, 13. John Amid, "A City's Tinkling Cymbals," Colliers, Jan. 24, 1925, 24-25. Anon., "The Eastman Musical Experiment," Literary Digest, LXXIX, Nov. Nov. 17, 1923, 30. The Score, 1953, n.p.
  5. U. of R. Institute of Musical Art Yearbook, 1920-21, passim. Rush Rhees to George Eastman, April 5, 1918. Rhees Papers. Augustus S. Downing to Rhees, March 27, 1918, May 21, 1918, August 12, 1918, Dec. 24, 1918. Ibid. Campus, XLIII, May 9, 1918, Feb. 21, 1919. R D& C, Feb. 14, 1919.
  6. George Eastman to Rush Rhees, February 14, 1919. Rhees Papers, Executive Committee Minutes, VIII, February 28, 1919. R D&C, February 14, 1919. Rhees to G. L. Treadwell, October 17, 1923. Rhees Papers.
  7. "Reminiscences of William G. Kaelber" (after 1943), 20-37. Rhees Library Archives. George Eastman to McKim, Mead, and White, August 7, 1919, October 22, 1919 (copies). Rhees Papers. Eastman to Frank L. Babbott, December 18, 1919 (copy). Rhees Library Archives. William R. Mead to Babbott, December 29, 1919 (copy). Ibid. Eastman to Babbott, February 2, 1920. Personal Letter Book, 13, 363. Eastman Papers. Fred T. Harris to Rush Rhees, August 13, 1920. Rhees Papers. Rhees to G. L. Treadwell, October 17, 1923, Ibid. Clarence A. Livingston, "Itchy Feet: A Sort of Autobiography" (1953), 70-77. Rhees Library Archives. Charles Riker, The Eastman School of Music: Its First Quarter Century (Rochester, 1948), hereafter cited as Riker, I. Slater, Rhees, pp. 188-193. Charles H. Meltzer, "George Eastman Gives a Habitation to a Dream." Outlook, CXXXIX (1925), 24-27.
  8. Anon., "The Eastman Theatre and School of Music," The American Architect, CXXIII (1923), 181-184. Frederick A. Mott and L. A. Jones, "Electrical Equipment and Illumination of a Modern Theatre," Ibid., 511-515, 5,65-570. F. R. Watson, "Acoustics of the Eastman Theatre," Ibid., CXXVIII (1925), 31-34. Edward Hungerford, "The University Acquires a Model Theatre," RAR, I (1922), no. 1, 3-4. George Eastman to Rush Rhees, August 17, 1922. Rhees Papers. R D&C, September, 10, 1922. The gravure section pictures personalities and scenes of the music center. Clarence A. Livingston to A. J. May, April 5, 1965. Rhees Library Archives. Raymond S. Wilson to A. J. May, February 8, 1967. Ibid. New York Times, August 26, 1922, March 31, 1966. R T-U, September 7, 1951. "Programme Opening of Eastman Theatre." Along with an historical sketch are photographs of the building, architects, and contractors. Rhees Library Archives.
  9. Rush Rhees to F. R. Welles, Oct. 22, 1922. Rhees Papers. Carl Carmer, op. cit., p. 40.
  10. George Eastman to Clarence A. Livingston, March 27, 1923, December 3, 1925, October 23, 1928, November 9, 1928, March 4, 1932. Rhees Library Archives.
  11. Raymond N. Ball to Rush Rhees, July 14, 1923. Rhees Papers. Rhees to George Eastman, July 3, 1924. Ibid. R T-U, July 24, 1923, R D&C, March 1, 21, 1924, April 13, 1941. Rochester Herald, Feb. 4, 1925. Ernest A. Paviour, Brighton-Pittsford Post, Feb. 18, 1965.
  12. Roberta Arlidge, "History of the Sibley Musical Library," The Notebook, II, Feb. 5, 1923. Ruth Watanabe, "Historical Introduction to the Sibley Music Library," URLB, XVII (1962) no. 3, 43-53. Klaus Speer, "Notes on Liturgical Books in the Sibley, Music Library," URLB, XXIII (1967-1968), no. 2, 35-42. Hiram W. Sibley to Elbert Newton, October 28, 1919. Rhees Papers. Sibley to Rush Rhees, February 11, 1921. Ibid. Rhees to Sibley, February 14, 1921. Ibid.
  13. R D&C, Nov. 18, 1965.
  14. Many aspects of the School are dealt with in Slater, Rhees, pp. 188-200, Memo. re purchase ms. "Home, Sweet Home" March, 1923 (copy), Miner Papers, Box 201.
  15. George Eastman to Alf Klingenberg (cablegram), Sept. 21, 1920. Rhees Papers. Rush Rhees to Jean Sibelius, Nov. 22, 1920. Ibid. Charles Riker to Harold E. Johnson, Jan. 31, March 4, 1957 (in possession of Riker). Harold E. Johnson, Jean Sibelius (New York, 1959), pp. 184-187.
  16. Members of the faculty are listed in Riker, I , op, cit., pp. 91-96. Photographs of teachers on the staff as of 1923 may be found in the gravure section of R D&C, April 15, 1923.
  17. Notebook, II, May 7, 1923 (Press). Ibid., III, March 17, 1924 (Vas). Ibid., March 31, 1924 (Belov). Ibid., May 12, 1924 (Kunz). E.S.M. Alumni Bulletin, V, May, 1934 (Trotter). Ibid., XII, February, 1941 (Kefer). Ibid., XIII, February 1942 (Tinlot). Ibid., XII, May, 1941 (Fermin). R T-U, May 7, 1965 (Cecile Staub Genhart). R T-U, January 23, 1967 (Remington). R D&C, August 10, 1941 (Weed). Both Cecile Staub Genhart and Emory Remington were to be honored by the University's Edward Peck Curtis Award for Excellence in Undergraduate Teaching, in 1965 and 1968 respectively.
  18. Rush Rhees to William E. Weld, Feb. 11, 1930. Rhees Papers.
  19. Notebook, III, October 29, 1923. Hazel M. Stanton, "Psychological Tests--a Factor in Admission to Eastman, School of Music," School and Society, XXX (1929), 889. Ibid., Measurement of Musical Talent; The Eastman Experiment (Iowa City, 1935). Howard Hanson to Rush Rhees, Jan. 16, June 2, 1932. Rhees Papers. Rhees to H. W. Tyler, June 3, Oct. 10, 1932. Ibid. Edward E. Hale to Rhees, June 9, 16, 1932. Ibid. H. W. Tyler to Rhees, Oct. 7, 1932. Ibid.
  20. Rush Rhees to Alf Klingenberg, Oct. 4, 1922.
  21. Eastman School of Music Catalogue, 1921-30, passim.
  22. George Eastman to Alf Klingenberg, June 22, 1923. Rhees Papers, Rush Rhees to Klingenberg, June 25,1923. Ibid. Rhees to Raymond S, Wilson, Aug. 3, 1923. Ibid.
  23. Rush Rhees to George East man Apr. 17, 1924, Oct. 16, 1929. Rhees Papers. President's Report J une 5,1924.
  24. Terry C. Knowles to Rush Rhees, Jan. 21, 1924. Rhees Papers. Rhees to Howard Hanson, Apr. 16, 1924. Ibid. R D&C, May 31, June 1, 1924. New York Times, May 30, 1924. R T-U, Oct. 29, 1966.
  25. Musical Courier, Sept. 11, 1924. Musical America, Sept. 13, 1924. Notebook, IV, Nov. 3, 1924. Rush Rhees to George Eastman, Oct. 1, 1924. Rhees Papers. Raymond N. Ball to Rhees, May 2, 1927. Ibid.
  26. E.S.M. Faculty Minutes, 1923-1929, passim, esp. Feb. 10, 1926, Sept. 25, 1929. Medical School Advisory Board Minutes, II, Jan. 12, 1926.
  27. Stewart B. Sabin, "The Eastman School in the World of Music," RAR, XII (1934), no.4, 77-78. Eric Bloom, ed., Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians (5th ed., 9 vols., London, 1954), IV, pp. 67-68.
  28. Anon., "Howard Hanson Week" (Rochester, 1966), 1. Hanson's compositions and recordings are catalogued on pages 9-15 of this booklet. R T-U, Nov. 25, 1966.