I purchased the above photo in February
2008 for my personal collection. It apparently had
come from the estate of Mr. Cornelius Gall who had
been Mr. Jones' teacher in his hometown of Hamilton,
New York. I soon realized that it really should be
returned to Mr. Jones as a family heirloom so I
phoned him and invited myself to visit him in July,
2008. I was very pleased that he still remembered me
even though I had had only a few lessons with him
when I was a teenager. He had very graciously taken
time from his family while vacationing a couple of
summers in Hamilton. (Many years later I also played
backup for his performance of Strauss 1 with the
Trenton, NJ, Symphony and had seen him from time to
time at Philadelphia Orchestra concerts.) My wife,
Laura, and I had a very pleasant visit at his home
for nearly two hours. He was in very fine spirits
and good health as he told us many stories. He
showed us his two beautiful natural horns and what
appeaered to be a large-bore trompe in D
that he used as a natural horn on his recording of
the Mozart conerto in D, K. 412/386b. In addition he
showed us his massive collection of Philadelphia
Orchestra recordings. He told us that Columbia and
later RCA presented him with a copy of every
recording on which he had played. A few months later
on the evening of February 18, 2009 we happened to
be on a tour of the Curtis Institute where Mr. Jones
had taught for many years. Of course his long
teaching career there was topic of conversation but
it wasn't until the next day that we learned he had
passed away that same evening. I was so disappointed
that we lost him only a few months short of
achieving his ninetieth birthday. [Dick Martz]
Oh, and that beautiful brand new 1936 Horner Model
Kruspe that he is holding can be seen in detail HERE.
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In the Spring of 1937, Boris Goldovsky was
tasked with conducting a concert by the student
orchestra of The Curtis Institute of Music. Fritz
Reiner was then director of Curtis but was away in
London. Goldovsky, a recent graduate of Curtis
himself, was Reiner's assistant. He recounts a
decision he had to make Reiner's absence:
Mendelssohns Midsummer
Nights Dream confronted us with a problem of a
different order. The Nocturne movement of this
composition is famous for its beautiful French horn
solo - one of the most demanding in the horn players
repertoire. Now as ill luck would have it, the
student who was to play this particular solo with
the Curtis orchestra came down with appendicitis and
had to be rushed to the hospital one week before the
concert.
We were thus faced
with a major crisis. It was too late to omit this
piece since the programs had already been printed.
The other French horn players in the orchestra were
adequate, but not one of them was skilled enough to
play the exposed and exceedingly difficult passage.
Much troubled by this
contretemps, I went to see Anton Horner, a charming
Old World gentleman who, like Marcel Tabuteau and so
many Curtis Institute teachers was a veteran member
of the Philadelphia Orchestra. I explained to him
what had happened, and suggested that since no other
student was good enough to play the solo, we should
bring in a professional from the Philadelphia
Orchestra. We would of course be cheating, since all
the instrumentalists at this concert were supposed
to be students, but given the critical
circumstances, this seemed to me the only solution.
Now wait a moment,
said Horner. Maybe there is a better way . . . I
have a pupil here who, I think, can manage the solo
very well.
I looked at him in
astonishment. You mean to say, Mr. Horner, that you
have a Curtis pupil who is good enough to play this
passage? Then how come he is not in the student
orchestra? The Curtis orchestra was supposedly
composed of the institutes most talented
instrumentalists.
Well, said Anton
Horner, its a bit unusual. You see, this pupil of
mine has only been studying the French horn for
about three months.
Three months! I
exclaimed. What are you talking about, Mr. Horner?
You have a pupil here who has only been taking
lessons for three months, and you say he is better
that the other players whove been studying with you
for years? Yes, he answered quietly, it happens to
be the case.
The newcomer who had
learned to master the French horn in three short
months was a twenty-year-old prodigy named Mason
Jones. Of all orchestral instruments the French horn
is with little doubt the most unpredictable, and
even very experienced performers can never be sure
that at some point or other their instrument wont
run amuck with a blooper as it is called in the
trade. But during his first three months of playing,
Mason Jones, for reasons that seemed to defy logical
analysis, has not once perpetrated such an error. He
seemed to have been born to play this instrument,
which in his hands was as docile as a Shetland pony.
On the evening of the
concert, Jones played the solo beautifully,
impeccably, just as he has played everything else
since then. The applause at the conclusion of the
two Mendelssohn pieces was deafening and well
deserved. But I doubt that many of the clappers
gathered at the Academy of Music that evening
realized that they had just heard a miracle.
[Cate, Curtis, My Road to Opera,
The Recollections of Boris Goldovsky,
Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1979, p. 272ff.]
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