Guy Baumier

The following information courtesy of Guy Baumier, Tabuteau’s great-grandnephew.

Marcel Tabuteau’s First Concerts in Compiègne—by Guy Baumier, translated by Michael Finkelman

At the beginning of the Tabuteau portion of the NET 1959 interview by John de Lancie, Tabuteau discusses playing oboe in the band in his home town under Francois Cavaille-Massenet, composer and founder in 1896 of the Municipal Wind Band of Compiègne that he directed until 1902 (just six years). Massenet’s mother, Julie (1832-1905), 9th child of Alexis Massenet, was the sister of Jules Massenet (1842-1912), composer, Grand Prix de Rome (1863), member of the Institute of the Academy of Fine Arts, professor at the Paris Conservatory, the 13th and last of the family’s children. It was thus at the urging of Francois Cavaille-Massenet that Marcel took up the oboe. Pictured below is the bandstand in the Royal/Imperial Residence Park of the palace at Compiègne where Tabuteau played his first concerts. —G.B.

Tabuteau’s Nickname

Louise Tabuteau often called Marcel by the affectionate nickname of “Pingouin” (“Penguin” in English). It was derived from a two-volume book set published in 1926 entitled L’Île des Pingouins (The Isle of the Penguins) by Anatole France and illustrated by Louis Jou (see below). Marcel was evidently fascinated by it, and so began the lifelong moniker. 

In next photo (1939), you can see a statuette of a penguin on a coffee table at Marcel’s left in their Drake apartment.

Louise and Marcel
The Tabuteaus at their Drake apartment in 1939
Penguin
Closeup of penguin

No doubt the statuette had sentimental value, and it is assumed they brought it back to France after Marcel retired.

Guy Baumier kindly sent us the following family information:

I know that it (the painting shown here) was at the Tabuteaus’ [apartment] in Philadelphia, and when they returned to France, [it was together] with the painting of Marcel scraping his reeds and the retirement document signed by Ormandy and all the musicians of the orchestra. It was hanging at “La Coustiéro,” and when he sold this “cost dear” [expensive upkeep] house, like almost all of the rest of his oboistic materials and papers, it was stored in one the outbuildings of André’s property in Toulon. I don’t believe it was hung on the wall of the apartment in Nice. [Marc Mostovoy doesn’t remember seeing it in the Nice apartment.]

At Marcel’s passing, as always with the bulk of his business materials, the painting remained in one of the two big green travel trunks [presumably transported from the US to France back in 1954 when he retired].

At the time of André’s passing, my grandmother Thérèse, who had been busy with [taking care of] her uncle [André] until the end [of his life], inherited the house, where we spent the summer of 1970 following his death. She sold the house and her pied-à-terre in Bordeaux and bought a house in St-Brévin-les-Pins on the Atlantic coast, nearby Nantes.

There, the trunks and the fishing poles remained in the boiler room [the basement] of this new house for more than twenty years, forgotten. Thérèse came to live with us in Nantes, and the Tabuteau paintings reappeared. By the time of Thérèse’s passing, my parents had also sold their house and many family possessions (paintings, dishes, silverware) in order to purchase an apartment in a lovely building on the island of Nantes. Had they given me at that moment the painting of Tabuteau (exchanged with Alain de Gourdon for the Lorée firm) and the Philadelphia Orchestra document (which I still have), I would have thought the rest sold or thrown out. 

Guy in Toulon in 1970
Guy in Toulon in 1970, age 13.

At the time of [my mother’s] passing this past May, I was able to recover her notes [pertaining to the] photos, and, to my great surprise, this card with a photo showing her posing with the painting under the philodendron which adorned the living room! On another card, she indicates that she does not like this painting and had it covered up with a photo-poster of the legendary boat Pan Duyck VI of Éric Tabarly, one of our greatest sailors. [The handwritten message under the photo explains this.]

As soon as possible, I will ask my brother who recovered the big photo with the boat if the picture with the flowers is below [it]. [Contact was made.]

Well, yes!: it is there. And my brother has kindly given it to me.

Lovely family story, no?

Cordially,

Guy

Translation and comments in brackets by Michael Finkelman.

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What's New!

Marc Mostovoy Replies to the Facebook Posts Attacking Marcel Tabuteau

An audio interview with Joan Browne (Champie), a private Tabuteau student in the early 1950s.

A photograph of the music stand that was in Tabuteau’s private studio in Philadelphia.

An autographed photo of Marcel Tabuteau inscribed to Joan Browne Champie.

An autographed photo of Marcel Tabuteau inscribed to Vladimir Sokoloff.

Marc Mostovoy Replies to the Facebook Posts
Attacking Marcel Tabuteau

When she learned of Joan Champie’s death, and read the obituaries, Katherine Needleman, principal oboe of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and one of two oboe professors at the Curtis Institute of Music, posted on her Facebook page and again via video a message of outrage. Needleman’s central paragraph, in which she addresses herself directly to Marcel Tabuteau, is as follows:

“I don’t care if it was 1952 or 1954. I don’t care what you did for oboe reeds, as if anyone cares that you sometimes scraped them longer with your knife than your predecessors—what an innovation! I don’t care what you did for phrasing, and I don’t care how many (mostly men) students you inspired with your abusive teaching, which lived on for generations because they were unable to self-assess and grow past it. I don’t care about your number system. If you did not admit Joan to Curtis because she was a woman, and if you “let” her sweep your floor as a reward, this is how I remember you. *** you, Marcel Tabuteau. You know what would’ve been a real innovation that would have provided us all some benefit? Being a Very Big Fancy Man who supported women in music.

Needleman’s outrage is the result of the mention, in Joan Champie’s obituary, that Tabuteau hesitated to accept women at the Curtis Institute because 1) the likelihood of their being able to pursue a successful career was limited; and 2) because, after a successful lesson, Tabuteau “allowed her to sweep the floor.” 

Point 1 is, very obviously, one of the sad facts of orchestral life in the United States in the 1940s and 1950s, and, alas, even beyond. Conductors at that time rarely hired women oboists. The increasing presence of women in symphony orchestras in the United States, and around the world, is one of the signs of the remarkable gains made by women since the mid-twentieth century, gains akin to those that have been made in this country by other groups long dismissed or long oppressed.

Point 2, apparently troubling–although possibly the result of Tabuteau’s well-known mischievous sense of humor, needs to be understood in context. Those of us who knew Tabuteau or who knew others who knew him well, acknowledge that he could be a difficult taskmaster and act cold in lessons—not only to his rare female students, but to all of those who came to his studio. And yet most of his students remained faithful and dedicated to him because of his demonstrative artistry and the richness of his teaching. As Joan Champie herself said, after explaining to me in an interview how trying it could be to withstand Tabuteau’s sometimes severe remarks, “each lesson was a gift.” Champie was a courageous young woman whose desire to learn from an artist obviously quieted the discomfort that she felt.

What is most distressing in Needleman’s tirade is the dismissal of Tabuteau’s reed-making, which was part of his effort to achieve a kind of sound that combined the best of the French and Viennese schools of oboe-playing (a kind of sonority that Katherine Needleman herself well produces) and the dismissal of Tabuteau’s concern with phrasing, which, as it gradually infiltrated the players who sat around him, became one of the elements that caused critics such as The New Yorker’s Winthrop Sargeant to call Eugene Ormandy’s band the “Rolls Royce” of American orchestras.

Needleman’s reference to Tabuteau’s “abusive teaching” goes too far. That teaching has lived on for generations not because Tabuteau’s students “were unable to self-assess and grow past it,” but because it incorporated logical and inspiring methods of making music come alive.

I take no pleasure in refuting Katherine Needleman’s profane tirade. Nor does anyone on our board think of the bad old days of male chauvinism as the good old days. The Marcel Tabuteau First-Hand website continues to remain dedicated to promoting the musical ideas of a man who in our view had a highly positive impact on the development of musical performance in the United States during his lifetime, and during the period since his death. I ask those reading this response and my initial reply below to forward it to others who might be aware of Needleman’s Facebook attacks, so that the facts may be known.

Marc Mostovoy
Website administrator

To Katherine Needleman: A Belated Reply to
Your August 15th, 2024, Facebook Post:
“𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐎𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐄.”

Katherine—your post on Joan Champie was just recently brought to my attention: https://www.facebook.com/profile/100058038401756/search/?q=joan%20champie. Having interviewed Joan last year, I thought it would be appropriate to respond. Kindly post this letter on your Facebook page and website. Thank you.

First I want to say that I wish you did have the opportunity to get to know Joan. She was a wonderful person and so inspiring. I felt privileged to have interacted with her even though it was only for a short period of time near the end of her life. Having gained insight into her relationship with Marcel Tabuteau through our conversations (including the live interview), I wanted to pass on to you what I learned from her.

As Joan pointed out to me, it’s important to understand that things were very different in her time. Viewed through the lens of today, Tabuteau’s treatment of her seems unjust. But she was a trooper and willing to accept the indignities because of the invaluable things he taught her. She felt it was well worth it as did all the other students who studied with him.

The reason Tabuteau did not like taking women students was because conductors of the major orchestras at that time wouldn’t think of hiring a woman oboist—even a Tabuteau student. Tabuteau felt putting all his time and effort into training a woman was futile because there was no career path for them, and he tried to dissuade women from taking up the instrument for their own sakes. But there were some women who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he reluctantly taught them. They included Joan, Laila Storch, Thelma Neft, Marguerite Smith, Martha Scherer, and Marjorie Jackson. And may I point out that everyone cherished the time they spent with Tabuteau despite the rough time he gave them. He also dished out the same tough treatment to their male counterparts as you know.

Now you might ask why Tabuteau treated all his students as he did. It certainly would not be acceptable today. But that’s the way it was then. Gillet (his teacher) and many teachers of that generation practiced that method. Tabuteau continued it because that is what he knew and grew up with. The students who couldn’t take it dropped out, but those who persevered were grateful for what Tabuteau taught them. As a footnote, many of Tabuteau’s students said it was great training to go through because it prepared them for playing under the difficult conductors they encountered afterward such as Toscanini, Stokowski, Reiner, and Szell—all dictators in their own right. 

Laila Storch’s biography contains numerous tributes by his students: woodwind, string and brass players; pianists, vocalists – all attesting how important he was to their musical lives. Tabuteau gave them something special that their own teachers couldn’t. Those who learned from him can’t all be wrong in their praise. He was a giant to them.

Throughout your post, you chastise Tabuteau for his behavior, measuring it by today’s values. I ask you to please take a step back and try to see things as they were then. Also try to appreciate what Tabuteau did to advance oboe playing and for the musicianship he instilled in so many. Today (July 2nd) being his birthday, let’s grant him the credit he deserves. 

Finally, most oboists of the Tabuteau school wouldn’t agree with you in dismissing his importance in regard to reeds, phrasing, and so forth. Indeed, Tabuteau paved the way for you too, Katherine, whether or not you wish to acknowledge it. Surely, he was far from perfect, but does he really deserve the full treatment you give him? I think not. 

Marc Mostovoy

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