Since 1903, members of Arts and Letters have delivered commemorative tributes to fellow members who have passed away. These remarks celebrate and reflect on the lives and work of the members being honored and acknowledge their contribution to the arts. A selection of tributes is now available in the digital archive below. As we prepared this archive, we were reminded that these tributes reflect their times, and, in some instances, include terminology and social and moral judgments we do not endorse.
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It is our privilege today to pay tribute, sincere and deserved, to a man of great achievement, great influence, talent, and personality—Mr. Frank van der Stucken, who became a member of the Academy of Arts and Letters two years ago.
All Americans hold a justifiable pride in the works of this man and his ideals, so pure, so noble, and so unselfish. Not because he displayed any eccentricities peculiarly American, but rather because he was entirely cosmopolitan, and in every phase of his work maintained a standard which compared favorably with the best abroad, do we feel this pride.
Although the impression exists in the minds of many that music is a young, undeveloped art in America, it must be remembered that in this, as in all arts, we inherit the traditions and achievements of our forbears.
The musical heritage of America is therefore just as rich as that of Europe—being identical.
However, comparatively few Americans have had the privilege of such close personal contact with so many of the great masters as van der Stucken, and from these masters, the privilege of absorbing their ideas at first hand and also the enjoyment of the unconscious influence of the truly great.
Mr. van der Stucken was the happy possessor of the friendship of such men as Liszt, Grieg, von Bülow, and others.
"Not all of me shall die," cried the poet Horace. "Not all of me shall die" is echoed by the valiant spirit of Frank van der Stucken.
When a man passes on something to the succeeding generations which helps and inspires them, that giving is itself a symbol of immortality, for whatever contributes to generous, pure, high-minded human living is of God.
Once, when approached by one of a group of those who had gathered about him absorbing that about the art of music which is never learned in the classroom or out of books, he was tactfully asked what recompense could be made for all the time and effort which he bestowed gratuitously upon them. He replied: "What I have, I give you unreservedly, with the hope that when the opportunity presents itself, you will give it to others, and in the same spirit as I now give it to you, for this is my idea of immortality." Nothing could more clearly reveal the character of the man than this sincere, spontaneous response.
Frank van der Stucken was born in Fredericksburg, Texas, on October 15th, 1858, into a family of affluent circumstances, gentle and cultured.
He showed a great predilection for music at an early age, and when only eight years old, was taken to Antwerp, where he might acquire free use of the French and German languages and study music at the Conservatory. He was a diligent student, and in 1881 went to Leipsic where he met and studied with Grieg.
Shortly after he met the great Franz Liszt who became so interested in him that he arranged a concert in the Ducal Theatre at Weimar for van der Stucken.
Only those engaging qualities which were peculiarly his own, the rich sense of humor, and above all, his innate refinement and fastidious intellect which rendered him irresistible to the lowly as well as all others, could have made such distinguished friends for him.
Among this group he considered von Bülow the father of modern orchestral conducting.
After a prolonged stay in Europe, with thorough schooling and much experience as a conductor, van der Stucken was invited to come to New York City as conductor of the "Arion," a well-known men's chorus of that time. He was recommended for this post by Max Bruch and once related how it came about. Quite out of a clear sky he received an invitation to visit Max Bruch one afternoon. With mingled anxiety and curiosity as to the object of the visit, he presented himself to this old, distinguished master. He was invited to walk in the garden where they talked of books, philosophy, and everything except music. After a charming hour's chat he felt that his visit was over and took his leave. It was only from its members in New York much later that he learned how the music committee of the Arion Society had written Bruch enlisting his aid in securing a conductor. Needless to say Bruch was favorably impressed and wrote accordingly.
So he began his career in America, with which country he was ever afterwards identified.
While conducting the Arion he gave orchestral concerts to introduce novelties, and at these concerts never forgot to include the American composers of that time, who were struggling for recognition.
After having aroused his chorus from its state of complacency with vigorous, exacting rehearsals and ambitious programs he performed a miracle which up to that time was undreamed of. He took his chorus on a triumphant tour throughout Europe, a fact scarcely less to be marveled at today than it was at that time.
In 1889 he did what in those days was positively heroic, giving an orchestral concert in Paris composed entirely of American compositions, including MacDowell's D Minor Concerto, which the composer himself played. Not only then, but throughout his whole career he was the champion of the American Composer.
In 1885 the Cincinnati Orchestra was formed, giving only three concerts the first season with Anton Seidl, the celebrated Wagnerian, and van der Stucken as conductors. Van der Stucken shortly after became the permanent leader of the Symphony Orchestra and remained in that post until 1907. In 1905, after the forming of the great festival chorus, he became its leader, thereby forming the basis of that signal influence which the chorus has exerted upon that community for years.
He raised the festivals to a place of artistic beauty and magnitude which is unchallenged to-day, and his memorable performances up to the last were a brilliant climax to his career.
His flaming enthusiasm, glowing personality, perseverance, kindliness, and his high musical standards swept his singers on irresistibly and neither distinguished soloist nor the most inconspicuous member of his chorus would ever dream of giving less than his utmost—more than he had to give—when Mr. van der Stucken conducted.
It was by presenting such monumental works as Bach's "St. Matthew's Passion," the majestic "Missa Solemnis" of Beethoven that he served the community for thirty years by forming its musical taste.
With his usual daring and courage he gave the first performance anywhere of Pierné's "Children's Crusades"—thus paving the way for the many performances of this beautiful work which followed.
One of his devoted admirers—one who sat at his feet for years—paid a tribute to Mr. van der Stucken, which I can do no better than repeat to you:
"We are most concerned with the spiritual values which were the outcome of all these efforts and doings. Thousands of lives have been enriched and touched by direct contact with his genius—many children who have sung with him and felt—although they did not realize it—the measure of his musical enthusiasm—and only think of the thousands of students who were taught the inexorable law that only sincerity and honesty in art can prevail, and that the one open sesame to the realm of genuine achievement is in the one magic word—Work!"
It was when he began rehearsals for the festival of 1929 that his strength failed, and after much persuasion on the part of his devoted family and friends, he very reluctantly gave up his work. Shortly afterward he was stricken, but his indomitable will and strength rallied to such an extent that he determined to set out for Europe with the "idée fixe" that he could be cured by one of the famous baths. But he only reached Hamburg, where he entered a hospital not long after landing, and in a few days died. He is buried outside that city in a quiet resting place which is home to him, for he was so much a citizen of the world that he belonged to all countries.
Just after the large celebration in New York of his seventieth birthday, an event which gave him great satisfaction, he wrote an intimate and devoted friend, "I've still many things to do—but in any case I feel that I can march down the valley of the Shadow sans peur et sans reproche."
His compositions, consisting mostly of songs, symphonic poems, choral works, etc., belong to his early career for the latter part was devoted principally to choral conducting in which he became preëminent. The letter from a Cincinnati friend continues, "It has been the privilege of this entire community to have learned its artistic credo from this man's teachings and his example.
“We know our ideals and what we owe them. We know that—high as they are today—they must be higher tomorrow; and that, come what may, our artistic conscience must remain inviolate and the integrity of our convictions must be unimpaired.
“There will ever remain with us the all-pervading idealism of those fundamentals upon which we have been taught to build, and what greater gift—what finer heritage can any man bestow? It has added and will continue to add richness and beauty to our lives."