Siouxland Observer


Thursday, September 29, 2016


Leo Kucinski was a Juilliard School graduate.  Every school child knew this in Sioux City, but it is unclear how many knew what it meant.  According to a brief history, on the Juilliard website, the school was founded in 1905 as the Institute of Musical Art by Dr. Frank Damrosch, the godson of Franz Liszt.

"Damrosch was convinced," according to the website, "that American musicians should not have to go abroad for advanced study, and created the Institute as an American music academy that would provide an educational experience comparable to that of the established European conservatories.  It was extremely successful.

In 1919, a wealthy textile merchant named Augustus Juilliard died and in his will left the largest single bequest for the advancement of music at that time. The trustees of the bequest founded the Juilliard Graduate School in 1924 to help worthy music students complete their education."

Its mission: "to identify and attract the most talented young performing artists from around the world," and "strive to ensure that financial considerations are not a deterrent to their enrollment."

Juilliard wants to help the best and brightest, regardless of their ability to pay.  

Leo Kucinski studied there, and brought this love of music with him to Morningside College, and its orchestra, conducted by George Hubbard, in 1923.  The orchestra featured the Polish-born violinist, Leo Kucinski (from Juilliard).

“Two years later, according to the Sioux City Symphony, "he returned as conductor of the newly organized Sioux City Community Symphony and soon became a major influence in the musical life of northwest Iowa.  For more than fifty years, Kucinski's name was synonymous with symphonic music in Siouxland.  His vision, drive and dedication to musical excellence guided the development of the orchestra through its formative years.”

The man and his symphony became the city’s crown jewel. Each year, the city’s 4th and 6th graders attended the Concert for Young Audiences.  One student, at a grammar school called "Cooper," was mostly excited about getting out of class.  His teacher may have said something about Kucinski, but the school bus was waiting.  Hurray!

Thus, the musicians were assembled at the auditorium in downtown Sioux City (the concert is now held in the Orpheum Theatre) and when they arrived, hundreds of school children from all over the city disembarked, and were directed up one of the ramps (the same wide, polished ramps that circus animals used) to the main floor in a cavernous room.

Classical music was for “long hairs,” of course.  But for some it wasn’t about the music anyway. The place was a wonder of curtains and cables and rooms and walkways.  In later years, several of the boys waiting for the music in the huge place, would explore every nook and cranny, but for now there was just some guy talking on the stage.

Kucinski was proud of his orchestra, and the city was proud of his accomplishment. The children were there to listen, and the orchestra played snippets from "Peter and the Wolf," and probably the "1812 Overture." And then Kucinski said something about the Lone Ranger.

The Lone Ranger, seen on television in the 1950s, opened with the Lone Ranger, and Tonto, probably, racing across a desert in the southwest on horseback.  The music that accompanied them on their quest to save the world was the "William Tell Overture"— and they were playing that music on stage — just like on television!

A love of classical music for many came from these humble beginnings.  Leo Kucinski died in 1998, but his influence lives on.  The "William Tell Overture," the "1812 Overture" and even Mozart’s "Piano Concerto No. 25" are heard and enjoyed by many Iowans because of Leo.
But there’s more!  Hilary Hahn, and her performance of Mendelssohn's "Violin Concerto in E minor" is remarkable. Did Kucinski perform Mendelssohn when he first played at Morningside College?  

Hilary Hahn is brilliant here, the recording is bold, and reveals a pride that is almost blue collar. It is a performance the kids at Cooper Grammar would have loved.  It's Leo Kucinski's love too. The man who shared classical music with the children of meat cutters and factory workers.

This is classical music at its best.  The full concert has been removed for some reason, but the clip shared below is a treat. Hahn's youthful pride, seen toward the end of this clip — sadly, reedited and shortened — would have been seen big time at the auditorium.

Paavo Järvi conducts the Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra.

(Another video link shared below is complete, but lacks the raw emotion a schoolboy would have loved. Paavo Jarvi conducts Mendelssohn's “Violin Concerto in E Minor, Op 64" a second time.  Hahn is polished and perfect, and it is fun to watch — despite the unreadable commentary.  But "thumbs down" in the auditorium's peanut gallery.)

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Archimedes' Black Forest Connection

“In the gods' number, they alone consider whom they perceive, and by whose powers they are openly assisted, the sun and fire and the moon (Deorum numero eos solos ducunt, quos cernunt et quorum aperte opibus iuvantur, Solem te Valcanum et Luman)"—"Commentaries on the Gallic War."

Once, vast forests covered most of Western Europe; many of the old-growth trees survived into the Middle Ages, and beyond. The "EndangeredSpeciesHandbook" said many were still there until just recently.  But despite this terrible loss, the history will never vanish.

Rome was defeated.  The Battle of Teutoburg Forest is still celebrated.  Old-growth forest wonders, well known and never imagined, bring insight.  Whether it's E.T.A. Hoffmann's tales of renewal, or the black forest's cuckoo clock mystery (shared above and below), we are still learning what's hidden under the canopy.

"The deciduous and mixed pine forests lost ground to the increased populations of towns and cites only in the last few centuries.  In Scandinavia, Germany, Austria and Switzerland, tree farms now take the place of the old-growth forests; other forests were replaced by agriculture and grazing."

Yet, mention the “black forest” and carvings, clocks and eerie dark shadows come to mind.  Witches, lost children and cautionary tales shroud old-growth forests.  And, of course, wizened old men  carving wood.

Named after a tiny area in southwest Germany, the “silva nigra” (as the Romans called it), came to symbolize all that was ancient, dark and rustling in the high winds. Dwarfs lived there, and wicked stepmothers too.  The tales made famous by the Brothers Grimm.

The forests in the ancient world of Europe were dangerous, but most of the more important legends (historical tales anyway), weren’t mentioned to frighten the children.  They seem to be there to help others, and in some cases, cast wonder or amazement.  

In Norbert Krapf’s “Beneath the Cherry Sapling,” for example, a legend from ancient Franconia reads true.  It created a signpost to danger that certainly helped many lost and hungry travelers.

Titled, “Die Glock zu Lohr” (“The Bell at Lohr”), it records the story of a Count who became lost in the Spessart Forest (a range of low wooded mountains, in the States of Bavaria and Hesse in Germany).  According to the story, he was saved by the sound of a ringing church bell. 

After wandering for days (although how long he is not clear), he sat under a tree at nightfall.  In the quiet of the canopy he heard a bell, and was able to follow the sound to Lohr.  After much needed food and rest, he requested the bell be rung every night to help other travelers find their way.  It has been rung every night for centuries.  Only recently, according to Krapf’s translation, has the tradition ended.

“The town bell at Lohr was rung each evening at eight o’clock,”  Krapf wrote,  “for a quarter of an hour.  It is one of the oldest bells in the town and was cast in 1453 by Conrad Nürnberger.”

Long before this story was recorded, the Romans had looked across the Rhine.  Sometime in or prior to the second century B.C., according to Dan C. Heinemeier, major upheavals among the Germanic tribes caused them to push south and west into Celtic lands.  In his book, “A Social History of Hesse,” Heinemeier wrote “by about the time of the birth of Christ this period culminated in the Germanization of the whole entire area of modern Germany west to the Rhine and south into modern Bavaria.  (It was here) the marauding invaders ran into the solid bulwark of Roman power.”

The Germanic people were made up of individual tribes, much the same as Native Americans in the United States.  According to Heinemeier, it was a matter of personal honor to exact revenge from neighboring clans or tribes for any slight or injury to one of their own.  This ultimately led to “courts” leveling fines in sheep and cattle for killing and wounding others, and much later payments in money.  It kept the violence and retribution from getting out of hand.

But Rome had no rights here.  They pushed across the Rhine in the late first century B.C., Heinemeier said.  But Heinemeier's historical account suggests Roman soldiers were defending Roman Gaul.  Prior to Rome’s assault, a major attack by the tribes of Sugambri, Cherusci and Quadi started a conflict with Rome.  It was after being attacked that the Romans took the tribes more seriously.  The fighting was hard though, and Rome suffered defeats.  The legions were disciplined to strengthen fighting skills. 

This map predates the Roman Empire; it helps show how far south and west the tribes traveled.  The Rhine  boarders France in the southwest corner of Germany, just north of Switzerland. (The map shared here is from, in accordance with Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 legal code.)

(When Caesar sent his dispatch to Rome about "perceived gods"—sometime between 58 B.C. and 50 B.C.—the Germanic tribes were the people he wrote about.)

Latin scholars (Mueller et al.) believe the wartime dispatches were written as reports to the Roman Senate, but also to the people (like Putin does today for the people of Russian).  Although the Roman's portrayed the war as preemptive and defensive (especially regarding the Germanic fight), the march to Gallorum (France), and the ensuing conflicts were fought primarily to boost Caesar's political career.

But the tribesmen Caesar wrote about did not hide behind trees and just attack others.  Accounts by the Roman historian, Tacitus, reported that the land was “productive of grain and rich in flocks and herds.”

So how did their land become a dark canopy harboring nothing but lost children, witches, dwarfs, mysterious clocks and chocolate cake smothered in wild cherries?  Especially in a land where agriculture, domesticated animals and even the rule of law flourished?

Hienemeier said the Germanic tribes that came in contact with Rome progressed toward a more settled existence beyond what previously had been possible.  But even prior to this the tribes had fields of barely, oats and wheat, along with flax for making linen and the exploitation of wild plants such as plums, wild cherries and hazel nuts.

Historic Latin texts, and contemporary understanding of Caesar’s dispatch (quoted at the top of this story), suggest the Germanic tribes fought with their gods at their side; and they worshiped only those they could see and feel. Simply, their gods walked among them.  The god, Baldur, The Bright, for example (at least according to Jakob Grimm), was a god of light…and a pure innocent, almost feminine, Grimm said.  His heavenly home was called Breitablick (Broad Glitter), which could be a reference to the Milky Way.

Caesar said in his report that the other gods (Rome’s, no doubt) hadn’t even been heard of, "(not) even by report.”

Imagine a people too stupid to know that Rome had better gods?  Today we still marvel at the mysteries of the black forest, and other ancient forests of antiquity. The Germanic tribes had real power.  Rome feared this, and as the Battle of Teutoburg Forest showed (decades after the death of Caesar), rightly so.

(What better way to vilify a people than to tell tall tales? Peasants who worship inferior gods and live like animals in forests?  Certainly, they must be defeated for their own good).

“Later in the Roman period,” Heinemeier said, “the tribes had shifted their loyalties to Wodan or Oden, whose character and abilities are not fully understood."  But the sun, fire and the moon (Solem te Valcanum et Luman) were understood.

Heinemeier also reported that the tribes worshiped local spirits thought to inhabit sacred groves, springs and forests. “The oak was very sacred,” he said, “as well as some groves of beech, ash and thorn trees.  The whisper of wind in the foliage might be thought to be god’s speech." 

But naturally, the Roman gods were better and more powerful....

Sun, Fire and Moon gods defeated Rome.  And just as the night sky was important to many ancient societies, it was in Germany as well.  Imagine a full moon in a forested glen in tribal Germany.  The gods of  the Germanic tribes ruled both day and night, and the tribes could see and feel them — and ask for favors.  They did not need Rome, and they most certainly bristled at their arrogance.

Most Western European, old-growth forests are gone now, but their traditions and history live on.  And good or bad, Rome played a part.  Rome didn’t bake the first black forest cake, but their conquests did reach Europe, and even transported stolen technology (and especially the Antikythera mechanism) that without question wound up playing a roll in the development of the black forest cuckoo clock.

For many ancient societies the stars held real power and understanding (just as they helped the Germanic tribes). One mathematician in the ancient world even mechanized a working planetarium, and in a twist of fate, started a journey to Europe.

It's true, black forest magic didn’t build the mechanized clocks of Europe, but their mechanical works did come from Archimedes.  They were stolen when Rome sacked Syracuse circa 212 B.C. 

Featured above is the video.  It links the black forest cuckoo clock (or at least its clockworks), to the death of Archimedes by Rome in Syracuse.  Archimedes made his machine to track the motion of the planets and the moon. Finding it at the bottom of the sea shed light on one of the greatest mysteries of the ancient world.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Whiteclay, Nebraska — Forever?

“The more things change, the more they are the same,” Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, a French journalist and critic first said in his native language: “plus les choses changent plus elles sont les mêmes.”

Now it’s Whiteclay, Nebraska, exploiting Native Americans. Yet it's happened before in 1833. But unlike the forced removal of the Dakota Oyate (the Dakota Nation) and Winnebago to Crow Creek (still playing out in Whiteclay), small groups in the Cherokee nation relocated voluntarily (at first, anyway) when European settlers wanted them out.

In 1794, according to Perdue and Green, who coauthored “The Cherokee Nation and the Trail of Tears,” one thousand people moved West under pressure from European settlers and their government. Then again, in 1810, one thousand more Cherokee went West to land in what is now Arkansas.  In 1819, two thousand more Cherokee merged with them (again, in voluntary cooperation).

“...the Cherokee, Perdue and Green said, "who went west before the ‘Treaty of New Echota’ often returned to there homeland in the East to visit family and friends and to reconnect to the land that formed the touchstone of their identity as Cherokee.”

But the clock was ticking.  By 1833, the incentives to move all Cherokee voluntarily, which included  “a good rifle, blanket, kettle and five pounds of tobacco” (offered in an 1828 treaty), had grown to shares of annuity payments the United States had withheld for three years — and other annuities from past and future treaties, according to Perdue and Green.

When offered these stipends (regular payments that were rightfully theirs), many declined the offer, and stayed home. However, in 1833, 900 people did decide to move, and waiting for them on their journey was good old Yankee know-how.

The approximately 900 who embarked in the spring of 1834 endured many trials,” Perdue and Green said.  “Even before they left the dock on flatboats the United States had provided, unscrupulous traders arrived on their own boats and moored on the riverbank opposite the agency.

From there they hawked ‘cakes and pies and fruit and cider and apple jack and whiskey’ in order to relieve the Cherokees of the annuity payments they had received.  The lieutenant appointed conductor of one of the detachments protested that the boats were the ‘nurseries and receptacles of idleness, drunkenness, and vice.’”  Or, as Jean-Baptiste would say,  the more things change, the more they are the same.

It is worth repeating that when the editor of the Sioux City Register, Dr. S.P. Yeomans, wrote in 1863 about the Dakota and Winnebago spoiling his favorite steamer, the Florence — when he wrote about the “dirty, ragged, lousy, beastly, nasty” ones — he wrote about the ancestors of the Whiteclay protesters, a people rightfully demanding respect and dignity in the face of unbridled greed.

When will it stop?

The Pine Ridge Reservation is a sovereign nation.   The Dakota Oyate has a homeland, as do the Winnebago. Watching people in Nebraska hide in plain sight of the solution is painful.

The documentary shared here is long, but details the problem well.  There is no easy answer unless Nebraskans revoke liquor licenses, bulldoze Whiteclay's booze parlors and promote a Farmer’s Market — or anything — grass. Only then will people rejoice: the scourge is dead!  A bounty once lost but now re-found.  The promise of America.