At the Philadelphia Academy of Music, the curtain fell for the second intermission of Carmen. Suddenly, through the plush folds, without any spotlight, stepped Mile. Ayenata Alexeywa, a Russian ballet dancer, who a few moments before had cavorted with more feeling than finesse. She bowed curtly. She lifted her voice in staccato notes to rebuke the audience for not appreciating her art, for hav-ing a fondness for jazz, for uncouth laws, raw liquors, ugly modes, boorish manners. The audience applauded.
During the next intermission, William Hammer, manager of the company", appeared upon the stage to apologize for Mile. Alexeywa's interltfde which had, he said, been "made unauthorized by a person no longer connected with the organization." The audience applauded.
901 Anthems
Sitting first on one hip, then on the other, four men listened to monotonous music. "Da da, dada, da—" 901 complete anthems, written by 901 composers, were played to the four men who were met in Chicago to nominate, if possible, a new national anthem for the U. S. There was a $1,500 prize for the winner, if any.
The four listeners were Frank Damrosch of New York, Frederick S. Converse of Boston, Felix Borowski of Chicago, Peter K. Lutkin of Evanston, 111. They had been instructed last week by the National Federation of Music Clubs to select only a hymn which would be so tremendous that it would "sweep people off their feet."
As the gentlemen swung their tired legs to the time, they had to bear in mind the verse to which the music had been ordered set, "America the Beautiful," written by Katherine Lee Bates, onetime Wellesley professor:
"0 beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain!
CHORUS
America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!"
"Da, da, da-da." The sky outside was brooding. Thunder. One of the judges thought angrily of "The Star Spangled Banner," which is, according to many an American, of too elaborate composition, too great a range, to be suitable for the national hymn. Besides, the tune is stolen from an old drinking song, "To Anacreon in Heaven." Furthermore it is only an occasional piece, written for an unimportant incident in a minor U. S. war (1812).
With the ineptitude of most made-to-order music, the tunes for "America the Beautiful" ground along. Obeying instructions, the four critics, still on their emotional feet, nominated no new tune for U. S. national anthem. It was the second time a public U. S. anthem contest had failed. The first contest was in Civil War times.
Piano Boy
Robert Goldsand, 16, Viennese child, fingered piano keys in Manhattan's Town Hall with such technical skill and such inspired impetuosity that critics acclaimed him "greatest boy wonder" since Josef Hoffman. Wonder -Boy Goldsand had played in Manhattan some time before. His returning better though older was what excited superlatives.
In San Diego
A fortnight ago, a man slowly wheeled about to smile and bow, to the applause of 2,000 music- loving, civic-proud, San Diegans. For six years he had, as they say, dreamed of that moment.