Chapters (35)
If only the performance plans could be progressing as smoothly; instead, she felt trapped in an administrative nightmare. At first Kulenkampff’s concert was set for September 1937. Jelly conferred with Adrian Boult and they fixed upon a date for her premiere at the Queen’s Hall in late September – which coordinated beautifully with the likely release of Erik’s book by Constable Press. Then came the startling news from Schott that the Germans had postponed Kulenkampff’s performance. Now she and Boult were obliged to change their date because Kulenkampff had to be first. Everything was duly rescheduled for October, with Jelly’s performance three days after the German concert. But there was worse: according to Boult, apparently Yehudi Menuhin had somehow heard about the concerto, wanted to play it too, and didn’t like the idea that anybody else might come before him.
‘He wants to play it everywhere,’ Jelly told Tovey, fighting her own fury, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘And I have absolutely no idea how he got hold of it!’
‘It’s called publishing. Schott’s is a commercial company and they’ll wish to ensure as many performances as possible, in as many territories as possible,’ Tovey pointed out. ‘They’ll be eyeing America. You mustn’t take it personally.’
It must have been Ulli. The same man who had gone to the Nazi top dogs with his bosses and overstepped the mark, nearly getting himself sacked, to fight her corner. But he’d have been under strict instructions. He was on her side. She had to believe that; it was all she had to hold on to.
She’d thought Menuhin a violin prophet, a miracle of an artist. Now her arteries threatened to rupture at the sound of his name. If she were not to be the first violinist outside Germany to play the concerto, any hope was gone that it might re-establish her in the glory days of Ravel’s Tzigane and Bartók’s sonatas. The wunderkind could simply snatch the piece from her, and there seemed no way to stop him. ‘I could have gone to America myself,’ she protested.
‘Jelly, don’t take on so,’ Tovey advised. ‘Come to Norfolk and bring the Schumann, as soon as you feel ready. We’ve waited long enough for it. Now let’s spend a few minutes enjoying it.’