Black strings: The symphony of a people and an instrument

music

On a spring day in 1841, Solomon Northrup set out from his Saratoga Springs, N.Y.. home, his beloved violin in tow, to provide musical entertainment at a carnival in Washington, D.C. For the educated free Black farmer and musical virtuoso, slavery existed only in whispered tales its specter looming only in the siwy reaches of his imagination.

But,on the,journey Northrop fell ill and awakened from a deep sleep to find himself in a slave pen - shackled, chained and soon after sold to a Louisiana slave owner. Rescued in 1853 Northrop returned to his wife and children, but he remembered the source of his salvation throughout the ordeal. In his memoir, Twelve Years a Slave, he wrote:

"Alas! Had it not been for my beloved violin, I scarcely can conceive how I could have endured the long years of bondage.... It was my companion, the friend of my bosom triumphing loudly when I was joyful, and uttering its soft, melodious consolations when I was sad."

Once his musical skills were known (he borrowed an instrument from a fellow slave to play the "Virginia Reel" in the presence of a White overseer), plantation owners encouraged him to entertain fellow slaves, masters, overseers and other landowners. Violin artistry elevated his status above that of his peers, and while it may not have saved his life during his enslavement, it surely improved his lot.

Today, few people recognize the long tradition of Black violinists, which is believed to date back as far as 1690, when slaves crafted duplicates of West African goges from hollowed out gourds, calf skin and gut and played them with an arched wooden bow. After slavery, the tradition of the Black fiddler continued with "string bands" that traveled throughout the deep South. (Marshall Wyatt's compilation CD, Violin,

Sing the Blues for Me (1926-1949), features the music of old-time Black masters fashioning a pre-guitar blues style.)

And while slave fiddlers reigned in America, Blacks in Europe such as Chevalier de Saint Georges and Beethoven's friend George Bridgetower (who was said to have so impressed the German composer that he originally dedicated one of his most famous sonatas to him before the two had a falling out) mastered the classical repertory.

Dominique-Rene de Lerma, a scholar of Black history and professor of music at Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisc., points to the violin virtuosity of not only the great abolitionist, Frederick Douglass, "but his son and grandson as well."

Early Black violinists even influenced other music. "In early ethnic ensembles it was the violinist who read music," de Lerma says, "and it was this person who taught the Appalachian country fiddlers."

In the years since the artistry of Bridgetower, the Douglasses and St. Georges may have produced a number of gifted artists, but few have made it into the ranks of the major symphony orchestras, and none have managed solo careers that match the status of African American classical pianists Andre Watts and Nathalie Hinderas, or any number of Black opera and concert singers. And no conservatory has produced a Black violinist to equal Jascha Heifetz, Itzhak Perlman or the scores of Europeans and Asians who dominate the concert stage.

In 1998, violinist Aaron Dworkin, then a 26-year-old graduate student at the University of Michigan lamenting his role as "the only Black person in every classical music situation," came across the string music of such renowned African American composers as William Grant Still, who was at his peak in the mid-20th century. "I was upset with myself," he remembers. "I thought, how could I not have known about this music? And had I known, what motivation might it have given me, and how much more focused might I have been?"

"As a string player, I didn't know I had any kind of [Black] peer group around the country," he says. But Dworkin had an inkling that there were talented minority musicians who could benefit from knowledge of (and competition with) each other.

He set out to establish a major competition for young Black and Latino string players, and with corporate funding and a jury of international repute, the Sphinx Competition for Black and Latino string players (held annually in Detroit and Ann Arbor, Mich.) was born five years ago.

With the competition, Dworkin hoped to boost the number of minority musicians in major symphony orchestras and on concert stages. According to the American Symphony Orchestra League, only 1.4 percent of orchestral players are Black, and another 1.9 percent are Latino.

If Black violinists flourished a century ago, how has the tradition been lost? One factor is that violin scholars, aficionados and critics have consigned the instrument to the province of the cultural elite. And de Lerma says society and the media have made matters worse.

"The entertainment media are totally unaware of the contributions of Black violinists, so the youngster who depends on the media for cultural data remains ignorant on this account and, if nonetheless is drawn to study that instrument, is thought engaged in an irrelevant or un-Black activity."

De Lerma cites a long list of Black violinists who have either been reduced to historical footnotes or only marginally appreciated for their virtuosity, including Bridgetower, St. Georges, Amadeo Roldan, Clarence Cameron White, Joseph Striplin and former New York Philharmonic first violinist Sanford Allen.

A native New Yorker, Allen studied at the Juilliard School's Preparatory division as a youngster. An Urban League report on the negligible relationship between Blacks and the symphony orchestra convinced the Philharmonic to audition an African American. Allen wasn't initially chosen, but he impressed conductor Leonard Bernstein enough to be offered summer work with the orchestra. Eventually Allen became the orchestra's first Black player, breaking its color barrier in 1961 as a substitute and an official member in 1962.

"That caused a big fuss," Allen says, recalling the disruption created by magazine photographers during rehearsals. He remembers the loneliness of the pioneer's role. "It felt very strange. But it was so unusual that I had nobody else to discuss it with."

Both Allen and St. Louis Symphony violinist Darwyn Apple had hopes of using the symphony to sustain themselves in preparation for launching solo careers. But as both learned, a major symphony job proved more hindrance than benefit toward that end.

While pursuing solo work, Allen was told by an artists' manager that "it's a well-known fact that orchestra players do not become very good soloists." The occasional solo recital brought excellent reviews, but orchestra playing remained the mainstay of Allen's career until he left the symphony in the late 1970s to become one of New York's leading studio musicians and develop his own chamber series in upstate New York.

While membership in an orchestra may have been a barrier to a solo career, other factors, such as age, "star quality" and race, also come into play.

Like Allen, Darwyn Apple gained early exposure to violin music in his native Detroit, listening to his mother's and aunt's vinyl discs of Nathan Milstein and David Oistrakh. After winning a Detroit Symphony audition, he played in Italy and New Orleans, before heading for the Midwest, following Black violinists Joseph Striplin and Charlene Clark into the St. Louis Symphony (which has had only a handful of Black players in its history).

In his 31 years as an orchestra first violinist, Apple has performed as soloist only a few times (including a rendering of the Saint-Saens "Introduction" and "Rondo Capriccioso" and a Bach "Double Violin Concerto" with Clark in the 1970s).

"It's been a source of frustration my whole life," Apple says. "The business is so skewed toward youth that seasoned performers don't seem to count. It's difficult fighting this battle, but I refuse to give up."

While neither Allen nor Apple can claim international success as soloists, they have managed what few Black violinists have: esteemed positions in leading orchestras.

Not surprisingly, Black violin soloists have fared better in jazz and pop music, where they can craft careers free from the whims of orchestra audition committees, artistic administrators and concert management companies.

Jazz violinist Regina Carter was so daunted by a White violin teacher's pronouncement ("It's going to be difficult for you because you are African American") that she did not bother to audition for an orchestra after completing Suzuki Method studies in her native Detroit and attending the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston for two years. She had heard the violin playing of jazz great Stephan Grappelli and was forever changed. Carter traveled to Europe, honing her jazz skills in the cafes and clubs of Munich, before eventually landing in New York.

Earlier this year, Carter became the first jazz artist - and the first Black musician - to perform on the storied Guarnerius "Cannon" violin that was owned by Italian violinist Niccolo Paganini.

Carter recalls a long and tedious process before the one-hour performance ("These armed guards formed a circle around the violin and blocked me out of that circle"), and she was taken aback by the public's reaction to the event. More than a few Italian patrons found the idea of a jazz player on the priceless 300year-old violin an affront to its legacy.

"I don't think it's racial," says Carter, who has five CDs to her credit. "I think that most of the people regard jazz as a second- or third-rate art form and thought that I would somehow debase the instrument." But she performed before a nearly full house. "The violin got a standing ovation" and won over critics, she recalls.

On her recent CD, Freefall, a duo performance with pianist Kenny Barron, Carter produces alternating moments of lush tone and wizardlike technique, while abandoning the electrified sound and active rhythm sections that mark her earlier recordings.

"It was fortunate that I discovered jazz," she says. "In some ways we may have the upper hand over the classical players; it's easier for the music to be fresh. Music should have new life, otherwise why bother?"

Diane Monroe, former first violinist with the jazzy Uptown String Quartet, has also found a niche outside the classical world. Growing up in Philadelphia, Monroe was inspired by Booker Rowe and Renard Edwards, the first two Black string players in the Philadelphia Orchestra, as well as the jazz virtuosity of John Blake. Monroe's career is a pastiche of styles: A natural jazz fiddler, she has lead the string section in ballet orchestras and performed chamber music concerts as well as arts outreach programs.

Monroe says the future of music lies in its ability to stretch beyond the limitations of prescribed expectations, and she points to the proliferation of violinists in diverse bands, from funk and jazz, to Klezmer and Swedish. "The face of music is changing in this country, and it's changing via the stringed instruments."

Monroe remembers years ago when the Uptown String Quartet was conducting workshops and classes for children.

"The difference is like night and day. Now when I go to a classroom and give children basic blues rhythms, they are fascinated and full of wonder. Ten years ago, they would have had very little clue in terms of what to do or how to be free."

In February 2002 Monroe served as a

judge for the Sphinx Competition, and like her fellow judge Sanford Allen (who was a judge in 1999), she was astonished. "I went there with trepidation," Allen says.

"But at a certain point I was almost in tears," hearing the kids play, accomplished musicians that could hold their own against their most talented peers.

Tai Murray, 20, and Melissa White, 18, winners in 1998 and 2001, respectively, both plan careers in music, but they are aware of the role race may play in their success. White performed with eight major American orchestras after winning the competition's junior division. "I haven't experienced discrimination that I know of," she says. "But it might be because I'm young and naive.

My mother has pointed out things to me, and now I'm beginning to see."

"I know that being African American can work for you or against you," says Murray, a student at the Juilliard School and recent winner of its concerto competition. "I know I stand out, I don't fade into the woodwork. But on the other hand, there is the fact that the classical music field may not be ready to accept a Black person playing at this level and being this serious about western music."

Meanwhile, Dworkin's highly successful competition, now expanded to include partnerships with major orchestras, outreach and educational programs, and coaching, faces its own challenges after losing the major sponsorship of Chevron/Texaco. But Dworkin is inspired by the high quality and energy of the students themselves: "We encourage them to follow whatever their desires might be. But we want them to have a dose of reality. We let them know what the numbers are."

The numbers try the patience of the most optimistic. Four decades after Sanford Allen became the New York Philharmonic's first Black player, the orchestra still has only one Black member - Jerome Ashby.

That said, music schools and conservatories across the country boast a greater number of talented and capable minority students than at any time in history.

"I think the process of getting Black students into places where they can actually learn has loosened," says Allen.

"They are getting better teachers, and they are surrounded by other kids who can play. It's that atmosphere that teaches you what's possible.

"What I tell young people is that the battle is in such early stages that it's unpredictable. I tell them that it's going to be bloody, and if you still choose to do it, it's fine. But it's going to be a struggle that you may well not win."

But Allen adds that today's youth have the advantage of expanded opportunities.

"It's possible that a few of the younger players may break through with a unique product in much the way that Yo Yo Ma has done [with the cello]," Allen says.

The most encouraging sign is the number of talented artists on the horizon, performing, competing and finding new ways of making music. Says Diane Monroe, formerly of the Uptown String Quartet: "When I look at these kids, I know that a wellspring is going to flood open. Just like Tiger Woods [may prove to be]. It only takes one, and then it becomes a habit."

Rosalyn Story is a Dallas-based freelance writer and symphony violinist.

Copyright Crisis Publishing Company, Incorporated Sep/Oct 2002
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