IV
As a practical man Taylor realized that if he were to continue his growth in serious music, he must find the means of livelihood in avenues which offered a more immediate return in the currency of the realm. He turned to the theatre and probably not without a feeling that here he would find also the fundamentals upon which he might some day build a work in the music drama form. It was an inviting undertaking, offering both income and working materials for future development. In 1922 he wrote the incidental music for Austin Strong’s pantomimeA Man About Town, which graduated from the Comedy Club to the Ritz Theatre. He had “broken into” the theatrical game and now according to the custom of the Rialto, he was to be pursued instead of being himself the pursuer in the quest for commissions.
Liliomrequired music; Deems Taylor was the logical man to supply it. A score was needed for the farce-comedy,Dulcy; who better than Taylor could do it? In quick succession he added to the list incidental music for the Winthrop Ames production,Will Shakespeare, music for the Theatre Guild’sThe Adding Machine, a musical setting for Alan Seager’sI Have a Rendezvouswith Death, in George Tyler’s production ofHumoresque; the incidental music forRita Coventry; incidental music for Gilbert Miller’s production ofCazanova; incidental music forBeggar on Horseback, produced by Winthrop Ames in January, 1924, in which was introduced the pantomimeA Kiss in Xanadu; and the score for the motion pictureJanice Meredith.
The distinguished use to which Taylor later put the technic he had acquired in these excursions into the theatre, saves them from classification as “pot-boilers.” And, what is more to the point, the music itself which he had written for these various productions, was of a quality which calls for no apologetic comment. Again he had shown his versatility and again he had added to the stature of his name as a creative artist.
During the period of prolific productivity in the theatre Taylor’s addresses to the audiences of the formal concert halls were less frequent. Three outstanding works, however, found expression amid the whirl of activity attendant upon daily reviews of musical performances for his paper “The World,” with his work often interrupted by conferences with producers, scenario writers, playwrights, actors, managers and others, to say nothing of the supervision of rehearsals. These contributions were the song for baritone,Captain Stratton’s Fancy, a setting of the John Masefield poem; the symphonic poem,Jurgen(Op. 17); and the suite for Jazz Orchestra,Circus Day(Op. 18), for which the resourceful Ferdie Grofé was called upon to supply the orchestral arrangement.
Jurgenoffers additional support to the contention made in the opening paragraphs of this record. It is another example of the service rendered by Deems Taylor to the cause of the American composer, for it represents one of the pioneer instances in which a conductor of an American symphony orchestra has sought out an American composer and commissioned him to write music for specific performance. Our composers had accustomed themselves to regard our symphony orchestras and their conductors as stumbling blocks in the road of progress. Taylor,in company with George Gershwin and Henry K. Hadley, and with the far-seeing Walter Damrosch as the instigator, was helping, then and there, to change a securely established custom. The orchestra was to go after the composer; and this shattering of precedent is of far greater consequence than may seem apparent to casual observance of the facts.
For the same reason the attitude of the Metropolitan Opera Company toward the American composer and toward homemade opera, is a subject which offers unlimited opportunities for conjecture. Proof of an open-minded policy, a sincere desire to bring forth the best that was to be had, is afforded by the action (during the Winter of 1925) of the Board of Directors in commissioning Deems Taylor, on the strength of his achievements in other musical forms, to compose an opera which would be promised a production. No restrictions were placed upon him: The choice of a libretto was left entirely in his hands.
Note again the part which Deems Taylor was playing in the breaking down of traditional methods to set the function of the native composer in a new light.
When this call came to him, he determined to sacrifice every other of his manifold activities to a successful prosecution of the mission. Reluctantly he gave up the duties of music critic—a position in which he was fast winning sympathetic and widespread approval, even as the successor of the late James Gibbons Huneker.
He turned with enthusiasm and high hopes to the task of finding a libretto, a search which promised no easy fulfillment, for little had been done in this land to stimulate the production of operatic books that would satisfy the complex requirements of the lyric stage.
Acting upon his own frequently expressed conviction that a genuinely poetic and dramatic libretto is an indispensable adjunct to the score of a grand opera, Mr. Taylor turned for assistance to Edna St. Vincent Millay, whose volumesRenascence,Second April,A Few Figs From Thistles, andThe Harp Weaverhave established her as one of the few great lyric poets of this generation. Miss Millay’s response to the appeal was an idea based upon a mediaeval legend; it was the story ofThe King’s Henchman, and it made a strong appeal to Taylor’s inherent sense of public taste. He could discover in it those elements which meant operatic success. He bade Miss Millay to go on with its development and meantime he busied himself with the laying out of his patterns.
Two years later, on the evening of February 17th, 1927, the world première ofThe King’s Henchmantook place at the Metropolitan Opera House. This was no ordinary première, even as brilliant as such events usually are. For months in advance the sagacious press department of the big theatre, aided enthusiastically by a sympathetic press, had aroused public interest in the production. The “Evening Post” declared that “Never in the history of the Metropolitan Opera House had a native offering been attended by such advance interest and such good omens of success asThe King’s Henchman.”
At the opera house, in the corridors, on the stage, back in the executive offices, everywhere there existed a spirit of expectancy and optimistic hope.
Tickets for the opening night were at a premium; on the final day they were unpurchasable at any price. Again Deems Taylor was making news.
The evening itself measured up fully to the anticipation it had created. It went into the records as one of the most dazzling of operatic premières; the audience actually liked the performance as an opera; it seemed to enjoy itself hugely and there was accordingly wild enthusiasm when the composer and librettist were called to the front.
What was the effect of all this adulation, this frenzied praise upon the man who was responsible for the success of the evening? Again we turn to his intimates for the answer. We find him reading, deeply solicitous, those words of criticism which measured with scientific analysis, in a more discriminating vein, thepoints of weakness in the score. He was neither professionally “high hat” nor “up-stage.” It was his first grand opera and he knew that he had yet to learn. He felt that he could learn most from those who were prepared to show him how to step higher. He absorbed these comments with none of the petulance of the prima donna who finds in unfavorable criticism only the traces of jealousy and lack of appreciation.