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Show Musicians Are the Funniest People: Adelina Patti asked $100,000 for I certain three-month tour. 'But," ob jectsd an impresario, "that's mor than the President gets!" . . . "Well," shrugged the diva,, "ther get the President." . . . Liszt wai 'a character who wore the same kind of clothes whether the weather wai rainy or fair. ... "I never," h declared, "take notice of that whict i takes no notice of me." . . . Hande composed so fast, they say, that th ink on the top of the page of hii manuscript had not dried by thi time he reached the bottom. . . . Another gag of the day: "Do yoc ' like Brahms?" ... "I don't know What are they?" . . . "Aftei Strauss what?" an English jour nalist once queried. "For om thing," music oracle Leonard Leib ling noted, "the critics." A journalist objected to the 7 a. m. piano playing in the room nexi to his in a Milan hotel. "Do you always allow that?" he asked. . . , "Not as a rule," they told him, "but we make an exception with Mr. Verdi." ... It was the late Alexander Woollcott who deflated a famous soprano boasting of her execution ex-ecution of an aria she described a "difficult." . . . "Difficult!" groaned Woollcott. "I wish it had been impossible!" im-possible!" ... At a Peabody concert con-cert President Grant once observed: "I know only two tunes. One is Yankee Doodle' and the othei Isn't." When Rossini heard Wagner's "Lohengrin" for the first time, lie said: "One cannot judge a work upon a single hearing and I have no intention of hearing hear-ing this a second time." . . . A German critic once wrote that "Wagner was a good musician, bnt he left behind the Wagner-ltes, Wagner-ltes, which was most unkind of him." . . . "In order to compose," com-pose," said Schumann, "it is just enough to remember a tune which nobody else has thought of." . . . When Albert Spaulding toured through the West one Winter, he told a theater manager man-ager that his violin was 200 years old. . . . "Don't say anything any-thing about it," replied the impresario, im-presario, "and maybe the audience audi-ence won't know the difference." Paderewski, when still quite unknown, un-known, went to London armed with letters of introduction to influential Britishers. "Dear Prince," one said, "the bearer, Ignace Paderewski, is a fiery young Pole and rather charming when he doesn't play the piano, for which he has little talent." tal-ent." . . . Paderewski, unless a press agent of the day is fooling us, once accosted a polo player with the question: "What is the difference differ-ence between us?" The other shrugged. "You," grinned Ignace, "are a good soul who plays polo. I am a good Pole who plays solo." . . . Grunfeld was caught by the father of one of his pupils kissing the girl. "Is this," stormed the parent, par-ent, "what I am paying for?" . . . "No," replied the famous tutor, "I do this free." I A young man approached Mo-cart Mo-cart and asked him how to write a symphony. "You're a very yenng fellow," the composer told him, "why not begin with a ballad?" . . . "But," pouted the youth, "you composed symphonies sympho-nies when you were ten." . . . "Yes," smiled Mozart, "but I didn't ask how." . . . Dr. Samuel Johnson admitted once he did not care for music. "But of all noises," he added, "I think music mu-sic is the least disagreeable." ... A young lady auditioned on the piano for Rubinstein. "What," she asked him at the end of the selection, "should I do now?" Snapped Rubinstein: "Get married!" Chopin, whose life Columbia brings to the screen in "A Song to Remember," could give more than the piano "the finger." He was a dinner guest in a Parisian home one night and, after the meal, was asked by the hostess to play some of his compositions. "But, madame," said Chopin, "I have eaten so little!" lit-tle!" ... He once cracked to Liszt: "I prefer not to play in public; pub-lic; it unnerves me. You, if you cannot charm the audience, can at least astonish them." . . . When DePachman mislaid his false teeth someone appropriately observed: "His Bach is better than his bite." . . . To a young pianist, Nellie Melba remarked: "You have talent, presence, charm. All you need now to make a success is a nice hot scandal." Mascagni heard an organ grinder murdering an aria from his famous "Cavalleria Rusticana" and ran out of his house to show him the proper speed to crank out the melody. Next day the organ grinder carried a sign on the organ: "Pupil of Mascagni" Mas-cagni" . . . Liszt paid women 25 francs to faint at an appointed time (a swoonster! ). He would promptly prompt-ly and gallantly dash from his keyboard key-board and pick up the swoonee. Once, a hired fainter forgot her cue and Liszt, very upset, swooned himself. |