In putting together a special edition of “The Lost Chord” for the 150th anniversary of the birth of Charles Ives, I learn that the first performances of Ives’ “Concord Sonata,” following the work’s publication in 1920, were organized by Henry Bellamann.
Bellamann, later chairman of the examination board at Juilliard (1924-26) and dean of the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia (1931-32), wrote the bestselling novel “Kings Row.” The book was published in 1940 and adapted into a film by Warner Bros. in 1942.
I’ve always loved “Kings Row,” the movie, even though it is rather bizarre and over-the-top. Okay, I admit it: I love it BECAUSE of those things. It’s actually a very grim story, anticipating the work of David Lynch, in some respects, as it gradually reveals the dark underbelly of life in a small Midwestern town. A sign on the outskirts advertises it as “a good town… a good clean town… a good town to live in… and a decent place to raise your children.” Of course it’s none of those things. But for as dark as the movie gets, it somehow never loses its sense of optimism. Bellamann’s book, on the other hand, is unrelentingly melancholy and bleak-as-hell. I have to say, it’s a massive downer. Even so, readers adored it. So much so, that Bellamann was spurred to write a sequel (which I have not read), “Parris Mitchell of Kings Row.”
As you can imagine, the notoriety of “Kings Row” caused quite a stir in Bellamann’s hometown of Fulton, Missouri, and not necessarily because of its success. Rather, a few too many people and institutions recognized themselves in the extremely unflattering narrative. Allegedly the book was banned from the town library, and Bellamann was the target of at least one indignant editorial in the local newspaper.
“Kings Row” is one of the most subversive films of Hollywood’s golden age. How it managed to get around the Hays Code is anybody’s guess, but I’m putting my money on the music by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, which breathes uplift and hope into what could have been two hours and seven minutes of sustained misery.
Also, the ending was changed, such an obvious overcompensation, with the climax an almost ludicrous eruption of joy. It’s a neat trick, as somehow, in the film, not only is the wicked in human nature balanced by the good, but the whole is infused with an undercurrent of nostalgia for a passing world. It’s kind of like how people choose to remember “It’s a Wonderful Life,” even though you have to go through hell before you get to heaven.
Amusingly, from the title, Korngold thought he was being assigned yet another historical adventure (he was Warners’ composer of choice for the Errol Flynn swashbucklers), which is why the theme is so wildly exuberant. By 1942, Korngold could do pomp and braggadocio in his sleep. When he learned of his misunderstanding, he just kept at it. And what a happy accident! The film is so much better – and so much more bearable – than it otherwise would have been. After all, how much madness, suicide, amputation, and incest can one take, especially in the 1940s? It really is quite the sleight of hand.
FUN FACT: When John Williams came to write the main title for “Star Wars,” “Kings Row” was one of his principal inspirations.
It was decades earlier that Bellamann reached out to Ives, in preparation for his lectures on the “Concord Sonata.” Bellamann toured the work across the American South, from New Orleans to Spartanburg, South Carolina, providing spoken introductions to each of the four movements, the music itself performed by pianist Lenore Purcell.
Bellamann would go on to write important articles about Ives, based on his extensive correspondence with the composer. He was the first to report on the influence of Ives’ musically progressive father, George, who was as much ahead of his time as Charles would be, and the composer’s perceptions of his hidebound teacher, Horatio Parker. Bellamann also provided program notes for some early Ives’ performances.
A graduate of Westminster College in Fulton (no relation to the Princeton institution), Bellamann also studied piano at the University of Denver. He then taught music at several girls’ schools in the South, while in the summers, he traveled to Europe to continue his studies with Charles-Marie Widor and Isador Philipp. Bellamann would hold several prominent administrative and teaching positions in the U.S. In addition to his work at Juilliard and Curtis, he was also a professor of music at Vassar College.
Since I won’t be talking about him on my Ives show, I figured I’d mention him here. The “Concord Sonata” will be heard in a most unusual form on “Concord and Discord,” an all-new episode of “The Lost Chord,” this Saturday, the eve of Ives’ sesquicentenary, at 4:00 EDT/7:00 PDT, exclusively on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon.
Stream it wherever you are at the link:
CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT: Ives; Bellamann; and 680 pages of pure misery
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