Donald Montanaro

Clarinetist Donald Montanaro (1934-2016) studied at the Curtis Institute of Music from 1951 to 1954, attending Marcel Tabuteau’s wind classes on a regular basis until Tabuteau’s retirement. Following his graduation, he performed with the New Orleans Symphony, and then the orchestra at the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo. In 1957 he returned to Philadelphia as associate principal clarinetist of the Philadelphia Orchestra until his retirement in 2005. He also taught at Curtis for over 30 years.

In May of 2014 he received an honorary doctorate from the Curtis Institute of Music where he gave the following address at the graduation ceremony. His tribute to Marcel Tabuteau is illuminating (in bold type below).

“Good morning. I feel very honored to be receiving this honorary doctorate here at the Curtis Institute, the school that provided me with the opportunity to receive a musical education that I could not possibly have received in any other place. When I entered the Curtis Institute back in 1951, at the age of 17, there were still many members of the faculty from the original, legendary faculty of the Curtis Institute. I had the opportunity to study with these great musicians and be thoroughly schooled in the sound and style and a lot of the history of Philadelphia.

Upon graduation, I went on to the New Orleans Symphony, and then the orchestra at the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, and then I came to the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1957. At that time, John de Lancie was the principal oboist of the Philadelphia Orchestra. He later went on to become the director of the Curtis Institute. Shortly after that, he asked me if I would like to become the next clarinet instructor here at the Curtis, and I naturally gladly accepted.

He asked me on first day to come in a little early. When I came in, we went down to the recording room with the recording engineer, and he had him put on a recording of Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra performing a Chopin Mazurka, a transcription of Stokowski’s with the Philadelphia Orchestra. We listened to this very beautiful playing and when it was over, he said, “This is what I’m trying to keep alive.”

I think to understand what he meant by that, we should go back to 1912 when Leopold Stokowski came to the Philadelphia Orchestra. At that time, music in America was unbelievably different from what it is today. The Philadelphia Orchestra was actually a German orchestra holding rehearsals in German. The Chicago Symphony was a German orchestra. The Boston Symphony was a French orchestra. So it all depended where you were — there was no national style.

Well, even though Stokowski spoke German, he was a visionary and an innovative man, and he had great plans for Philadelphia. But he came here and he waited for two years. During that time, he studied the sounds of the various instruments to decide which things he wanted for Philadelphia. He made his first major move in 1914 when he didn’t want the German oboe and he picked Marcel Tabuteau to be the principal oboe, who was a graduate of the Paris Conservatoire.

The following year, he also decided he also didn’t like the German clarinet, so he got Daniel Bonade, who was also a graduate of the Paris Conservatoire. But he preferred the German bassoon style and the German French horn style. He had Walter Guetter and Anton Horner. With flute, he preferred the French style and he got William Kincaid, although an American, who had studied with [Georges] Barrère, he was French schooled.

I might add that every choice that Stokowski made went on to become the national style.

He also didn’t want the contrabass with the German style bowing, so he hired Anton Torello. He hired musicians of various nationalities and schoolings, and then this great eclectic homogenization process started that culminated in what was known as the “Philadelphia Sound,” which Stokowski described as a diamond wrapped in velvet.

It was around this time that Mary Louise Curtis Bok founded the Curtis Institute. Through her generosity, they made a school where it was possible, it was stipulated it was to be only a scholarship school. Now we had the most talented young players coming here, studying from these great teachers and going on to populate not only the Philadelphia Orchestra but orchestras all over the country.

It was here at the Curtis Institute, in my opinion, that the second great part of this Philadelphia style came and mainly in the man of Marcel Tabuteau, who was the principal oboist of the Philadelphia Orchestra and not only taught oboe and chamber music, but also conducted chamber concerts with the orchestra here.

So the great majority of us had opportunities to play for and study from this great man. Now, he had enormous insights into phrasing music. As a matter of fact, I think I’ve learned more about phrasing from him than any person that I’ve ever encountered. A lot of it was through terror. He was really a very, very difficult man. But in the end it was worth it.

Now, I think we can all realize the impact that Philadelphia, the Philadelphia Orchestra and the Curtis Institute, have had upon music in the United States. There was a great tradition here and I’m sure that this is what John de Lancie had in mind when he said, “This is what I’m trying to keep alive.” It was something that I agreed with. For my own part, I’ve enjoyed passing on to my students everything that I’ve learned from these great musicians that I’ve had the privilege of either studying from or playing with. [His students now occupy seats in orchestras all over the world.] Lastly, to the graduating class, I wish you all the happiest lives and success in music. It can be a wonderful life. Thank you.”

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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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