Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
For Cimbro
On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth August 23, 2011
Reminiscences written, compiled and edited by Paul and Carol Martin
For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
Dedicated to my father, and Carol’s father-in-law, Cimbro Percy Martin.
© 2011, Paul and Carol Martin all rights reserved. Maybe used—but not for profit—with attribution.
This is the work of many, many people. We put it together and had the concept, the vehicle and the energy to complete the vision. It is made in celebration of Cimbro Martin’s centennial. All errors are the responsibility of the copyright holders and will be corrected. We thank the more than 30 people who were kind enough to write to us, and to encourage us, continually, in our quest.
From Pablo Casals ‘Joys and Sorrows’ (1970):
‘We are all leaves of a tree and the tree is humanity’.
From the book written by Cimbro’s doctor at the Royal Marsden Hospital, now working in Canada, Dr. Rob Buckman, ‘I Don’t Know What To Say’ (1988):
‘Having a library or an office block named after you cannot make people remember you. But if you’ve altered the way people think, then some of the meaning of your life will go on after your death.’
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
For Cimbro
On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth August 23, 2011
Reminiscences written, compiled and edited by Paul and Carol Martin
For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
In Celebration:
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
Cimbro Martin 1911—1975
For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
introduction—paul Sometime around 2004 or 2005, Carol decided I needed to know something about my father. She had become frustrated and disappointed, because, every time she asked me about him, I replied, “I don’t really remember.” In fact, every time she asked me about my childhood I replied, “I don’t really remember.” She wanted more information, and she believed I needed more information to jog me out of a despondency I had begun sinking into, and to connect me back to my essential self—the self she fell in love with in 1979 when she saw me blasting the audience from the stage of the tiny Sun Theatre in her (equally tiny) home town of Portland, Michigan, as I sang with a rock and roll band I had joined in Florida, at its homecoming celebration. Carol is, unequivocally, the hands-down, best internet researcher I have ever had the joy to watch “surf the net” (as we used to call it when I came across the Internet in the 1980s). She began searching for anything “Cimbro”. For a very long time, she explains to me, nothing happened. Nothing at all. Then, on 19 January, 2009 she got a “hit”. Right there: On the screen in neon lights with bells on, was a reference to three letters from Cimbro to an Alan Walker: Alan Walker fonds. First Accrual. Series 1 Correspondence. Boxes 1-12 Cimbro Martin, England. 3 letters to Walker, 2 letters from Walker, 1965. (Box 6, F.5).
These letters were in an archive at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, just across the US border from us, here in Michigan. Carol—who, at this point was jumping for joy, laughing, and ecstatically energized (all while seated at the computer)—got in touch with the librarian/archivist at McMaster—via email—and asked if we could get copies of the letters. She explained we were on a quest to find my father, and, that this was the first real evidence we had found of him out there in cyberspace. This very kind woman forwarded Carol’s message to Dr. Alan Walker, and he not only allowed her to forward scans of those letters to us, but also explained their significance. Walker told us he had briefly been a colleague of Cimbro’s at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama on John Carpenter Street in London, before he went on to the BBC. That Cimbro used to correspond with him regarding the possibility of getting his students auditions at the Beeb. These letters, then, were his attempt to promote Sonia Davidoff onto the airwaves. While the move didn’t immediately get Sonia on the radio, it did get her that coveted audition, and the comments from Dr. Walker you will see from the letters on the next pages. A huge connection was made, for me, because I remembered the name Sonia Davidoff and that remembrance initiated a flood of emotions which brought Carol’s search—and, therefore, Cimbro—into my head like a lightning bolt. This was real. This was happening. I could wake up. While Dr. Walker didn’t feel he wanted to talk to us, he did email some suggestions as to how we might proceed with our search.
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
He gave us the email address for Malcolm Troup, a colleague of Cimbro’s at the Guildhall. Professor Troup told Carol he came to the Guildhall just before Cimbro left. He said he didn’t really know Cimbro very well, but, he knew of him and his reputation. Professor Troup told Carol he was happy to be involved in “... rescuing Cimbro’s great contribution to British Pianism.” He also suggested I call James Gibb, another Guildhall professor who, Troup said, would remember Cimbro well. When I got hold of Professor Gibb, he told me he was glad to help in my “...quest to restore Cimbro’s legacy.” All of a sudden, this search was dubbed both ‘historic’ and a ‘Quest’ by two legitimate and respected sources, both of whom have made great contributions to British Pianism, themselves. From then on, ‘Quest’ it became. For ‘Quest’ it is. The following pages, then, are filled with the results this ‘Cimbro Quest’ unearthed between that fateful day in 2009 and what would have been Cimbro’s 100th birthday, 23 August, 2011. In celebration of the C2—The Cimbro Centennial—then, here are the voices of pupils, family and colleagues. Let it be the first of many things emerging out of the C3—The Cimbro Centennial Celebration—which will culminate in the C4—The Cimbro Centennial Celebration Concert—which is in the planning stages.
Thank you to all of you who have written us. Thank you, though, most of all to Carol who created this quest in the first place. Just the beginning.
Paul
For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
introduction—carol
Paul’s family is amazing. When I first fell in love with him, I had no idea what I was in for, really. All I knew—when I looked at the marquee on the Sun Theatre and saw his picture for the first time—was that, here in my little hometown in the middle of Michigan, a dream had come true for me. My soulmate had arrived. I considered myself very lucky. Then I got to know my love and he took me to England and I began meeting members of his family. People I had heard stories about from Paul. It was wonderful putting real people into the slots I had for them from those stories. I got to spend time with Paul’s mum, Louise. And with his younger brother and his wife—Nicholas and Jessie—and with his sister, Carla. But the most amazing meeting for me was when I met his maternal Grandfather, Pop. I ended up meeting three of the four Frankel brothers, Theo—Paul’s grandfather—Paul and Otto. These three men were all internationally famous. And all of them had a real and dramatic influence on our world and world events. Theo was a papermaker who was instrumental in inventing cigarette filters before WW2, and, as a consequence, was able to save hundreds (perhaps thousands) of Jewish lives. He went on to create
carbonless paper and run the second-largest paper company in the world (at the time) where he introduced environmentally and ecologically sound manufacturing processes including the first big renewable resource program in Britain—where forests used for pulp were replanted. Paul was the world’s leading OPEC expert. An economist. And then there was Sir Otto. He invented winter wheat, single-handedly brought seed-banks to international attention and coined the phrase “our genetic resources.” Heavyweights you could call them. But, over the years, I began to realize that, while I knew his maternal family—back for generations, really, as I followed my genealogical research nose around—I knew nothing about Paul’s father’s side of the family. When Paul started going into a funk after various disasters and—the final straw—being beaten up by his boss, I thought I had found a vehicle to bring him back to himself, while, at the same time giving me a picture of the rest of his family. That is how I started researching Cimbro. I had no idea that the other side of the family was equally amazing until the Cimbro Quest took off before my very eyes. Research, for me, is an intuitive dance. Things come to me
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
once I get started. It’s a sort of meditation. I start with the Thank you for all your help. basic mantra—or rythm—(in this case it’s “Cimbro Martin”) and then let it take me wherever it wants to go. When I hit pay dirt in 2009, after many years of nothing, it was miraculous to me. “There’s your father, Paul,” I thought, as I got into the McMaster University archives. Then, I found his long-lost cousin, who led me to his even longerlost half sisters and their children—Cimbro’s grandchildren. I found Cimbro’s widow, Marion—Louise, Paul’s mum, was his second wife. After that, it was amazing to watch how information arrived in fits and starts, until, after all the foundations were laid, Rachel Dyson from the Guildhall asked Paul to contribute a short article to the alumni magazine and the sluice gates shot open and flooded us with information. This quest has been one story after another. Some absolutely hilarious. Some sad. But all of them wonderfully informative. Finally I have a picture of Cimbro in my heart. Here are some of those stories. I hope you enjoy them as much as we do. You, after all, are going on a very similar journey as us, as you have become involved in our quest. Pulling up Carol 23 August, 2011 memories. Mining emotions. Discovering Cimbro. Bath, Michigan, USA Enjoy this tribute.
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
Subject: C Martin Well Dear Mr Martin, I have made time this afternoon to search back through our ledgers of past students administrative records, which were bound in annual volumes as students left the Academy. From the information you gave me, I was surprised to find the record for your father in the 1934 volume: He was a student here from 1926-1933. In the Annual exams, held each Summer term, in 1932 he achieved the Certificate of Merit with Distinction in piano (the highest level awarded), having first gained the Certificate of Merit for piano in 1929. That year, 1929, he also was awarded a Silver medal (the next level down) in Aural Training. He was recipient of the Elizabeth Stokes Open Scholarship for the period September 1931-July 1933. Yours sincerely Bridget Palmer Royal Academy of Music
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
the quest begins reminiscences and recollections from those who knew and loved him:
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
The following is a compendium of stories by people who knew Cimbro. Most of them were collected throughout the continuing e-correspondences and actual hard-copy correspondences which have been the fuel and vehicle of the Cimbro Quest for us for the years it has been bearing fruit. For all of these we are completely grateful. I (Paul, in this case) have to add that I had no idea of my father’s standing in the musical community until these messages came in. It’s great to know how much my father contributed to so many lives. And how much his pupils and friends got out of knowing him, studying under him and observing him. I am extremely glad he was so “eccentric” half the time. Gives one license, in a way. Especially over here in the states, where a Brit has an obligation to present that eccentric side.
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
Pauline Allen (née Griswood): I first met Cimbro in 1957 when I was allocated to him as a part-time pupil in 1957. He encouraged me to apply for a place on the Graduate Course in 1958 and I duly graduated in 1961. Cim’s teaching techniques were a revelation! So many new (to me) and exciting ways of practicing—I still use them! Because I was about to marry Frank (on April 1st, 1959), Surrey County Council threatened to stop my grant if I didn’t have a very good reason for marriage; on telling Cimbro about this he said “Tell ‘em you’ve got to!” Fifty years ago this comment was startling. We became very friendly with all the Martin family, exchanging visits and also going to the Kent coast (Littlestone and Greatstone) in the summer hols. The first time that we visited Shirley I remember that Cim made Frank take off his woolly jumper before entering the house in case it upset the hi-fi, which was, apparently, a new toy. Also, poor Frank always had to leave his pipe on the doorstep. I’m sure that Cimbro would be delighted to know that Frank no longer smokes! Also during this period Cim was enthusing about a Russian Orchestra at the Edinburgh Festival who tuned before coming onto the platform “Why don’t our orchestras do this?” he said. One evening, when Cim and Louise came to dinner with us at our cottage in Holmwood, we walked down to the local pub where a particularly strong cider was ordered; on returning to our house he was prevailed upon to play the piano (something that he had always refused to do). Once started, he was unstoppable
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until the early hours, and the next day a close neighbour asked me “Did you leave your radio on when you went to bed last night as I kept hearing music?” In my final year Cimbro asked me to take on the teaching of the music-appreciation class for the Saturday morning junior exhibitioners/students; saying “no” was not an option—so there I was, faced every Saturday morning with a hall full of these students, trying to instill a sense of chronological music history without, I have to say, too much help from my mentor. “Of course you can do it!” was the rejoinder when I demurred. How grateful I was for that experience later on in my teaching career. As you can tell from these memories, I was very “pro” my piano professor! He encouraged, harangued and chided me, but he never gave up finding ways of improving one’s playing or of convincing us that we were worth taking trouble over. I owe him a huge debt of gratitude. Paul Bateman: The very first time I met him I was 12 or 13 (1966 or ’67) and he was Principal of the Guildhall Junior School. On my first day he said to me, “Go upstairs to Room 68 [Rudiments Class] and tell Miss Roberts that another genius has arrived.” Dapper—yes. Every day dressed immaculately with bow tie perfectly hand-tied. He once described a certain musicologist thus: “No-one knows more about HALF of music”! He also stated (on more than one occasion) that he “wouldn’t put the Studies of Matthay down his toilet”—he had more respect for his toilet. I studied full time with Cimbro for 2 years and just before the end of this period had some Sunday lessons at his home in Bromley - enjoying a good meal too. Shortly after that I had a difficult decision to make as I was offered a job as Musical Director on a cruise ship sailing to Australia and around the South Pacific, then home again - lasting 7 months. I discussed this at length with Cimbro and he encouraged me to take the job as it would be invaluable life experience. During my time away we corresponded and in one letter he told me of his illness. On my return to the UK I telephoned him as I
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin wished to visit but he really didn’t want anyone to see him in his poor state so I never saw him again. I attended his funeral and played at a memorial concert, along with John York, Jonathan Rutherford and a number of other ex-pupils. As a man Cimbro was perhaps not terribly popular amongst his fellow professors as he said what had to be said without holding back! He was a great teacher and though some of his views on life didn’t concur with mine I was constantly very fond of him and found his company stimulating. I therefore remember him with great fondness and gratitude. Only last year I finally performed the Liszt Sonata that I had studied with him all those years ago. Second performance in November 2009 at Brighton Pavillion! I am giving a piano recital on September 2nd, 2011 at my local church. Since printing the leaflet I have decided to give the proceeds to the Gastro Research Project at Gt. Ormond St. Hospital that directly affects our son Ben. I am also going to dedicate the concert to Cimbro’s memory as it’s only 9 or so days after his 100th. Some of the second half pieces that I shall also be performing are pieces that I studied with Cimbro but have never performed before. I can therefore hear him speaking to me as I practise!
sister, Carla, in his arms. Your father was the most influential male figure in my life—after my own father and hardly a day passes without my thinking of him. I even dream about him at night. He was a teacher of superlative stature and his touch and tone at the piano miraculous. I shall never forget his playing. Audrey and I were watching the BBC Proms broadcast on TV on Saturday—an evening of great musicals by Rodgers & Hammerstein. One marvelous performance of “I Enjoy Being A Girl” from “The Flower Drum Song” immediately reminded me of an amusing Cimbro incident which occurred when I went into Cimbro’s teaching room on the top floor of the Guildhall for my lesson. I’d been given two free tickets to see the show—I think, that day. Anyway, I showed them to Cimbro who tore them in two and told me it was a lousy musical score—that’s why the tickets were free. He was going to the HI-FI exhibition—I think, at Olympia—and wanted me to go with him for company. Well what could I do? He’d torn my tickets, so I might as well join him! Your father was very keen on HI - FI and had the finest equipment available at that time: two socking great, shiny, bronze QUAD Electrostatic speakers graced the room in your home at Hartland Way. The decor was white- pure white, and the speakers and the grand piano stood on a luxurious deep—pile,wall to wall carpet, again, white. The orange curtains provided a striking dash of Richard Baulch: I recognized your father immediately from the picture you sent colour. The cabinet that housed the turn-table, tuner and amp fitted onto the wall, all painted white and beautifully hand-made and the effect on me was quite dramatic. From time to time, I think of you and wonder how you have by your father. grown up and what you are doing now, because I remember you as a young boy from when Cimbro brought you into at least one of his master-classes in the concert hall at the Guildhall School Alan Beaumont: Of Music which all his students attended. As I am recalling this, In the early 1960s I decided to take a Piano Teaching I have suddenly found the answer to a question that has puzzled Diploma. me whenever I have reminisced over this occasion: Cimbro had I had already passed Ass. Board Grade 8 in Theory and Piano been speaking to us about the capacity to produce a big tone and had spoken to a professor at Trinity College who advised when playing heavy chords. He invited me to go over to the me to phone any college where I wanted to take their diploma. “Chapple” concert grand and play the loudest chord I could. He suggested that I asked for a ‘Senior Professor’ to guide me in I did so, using all ten fingers, and he said: “ Now, I can double my task. that volume.” Normally he would have demonstrated his point. I chose the Guildhall School of Music & Drama for some reason Why didn’t he do so and why didn’t he play at all during the and was put in contact with a Mr. Cimbro Martin. (He had a group session? And now I see why: he was holding your baby foreign name, so he must be all right!) I took Mr Martin’s advice
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011 and sat for the LGSM (Teachers) in April 1968, followed by the ARCM (Teachers) in July 1969. During this time Mr Martin would phone me some Fridays to ask if I were available to teach on the Saturday at the Junior Guildhall. This was convenient since my source of income at the time was at the Port of London Authority (and I always held other occupations throughout my careers). I never had lessons at the GSMD during this time but at his studio in Wigmore Street, W 1. From 1974 I taught regularly in the Junior Department of the GSMD until it moved from John Carpenter Street in May 1977. It then moved to the Barbican when ‘GSMD’ must have meant ‘Grit, Sand, Mud and Dust’ rather than Guildhall School of Music and Drama! During my time at the School I had given some 8000 lessons to over 100 pupils and examined over 100 examinees throughout the south-east as well at the Guildhall School. But in the year 2000 I decided to retire, and I received a congratulatory letter from the then Principal, Ian Horsbrugh, who spoke of my ‘quite remarkable record’. I remember Cimbro Martin as the founder of the Junior Exhibition Scheme and a very sincere and dedicated musician. His humour was always pleasant and he never once regarded me as anything other than an equal, and for this I shall be eternally grateful. Surely ‘his legacy lives on in the careers and lives of his students’, as you have written, Paul. Dianne Bickley (née Hoult): I completed my time as a Junior Exhibitioner in July 1963. It was your father who heard me play the piano when I auditioned to join the scheme (c 1957) and I had a couple of lessons with him (very scary but amazing!) when I was working for my performer’s diploma which I took between Dec 1961 and Easter 1962. My main piano teacher at that time was Ieaun Roberts. It was an amazing time for me and I learnt so much about music in the broadest sense because of the range of lessons which were available to us Juniors; my Saturday ran from 8.30am till 3pm-ish - or later! Although I did not know him as well as many, I still feel I owe him a lot.
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Malcolm Troupe is certainly right in his quote. PS I was Diana Hoult at the time and I also played the double bass under Uncle Max’s baton. Teresa Cahill: Cimbro Martin was already a famous piano teacher at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama when I became a Junior Exhibitioner there on Saturday mornings in the late 1950s. My new friend, Sonia Davidoff, although the same age, was already at an advanced level and studied with him personally, but most of us had other teachers and I was taught by the excellent Paul Harvey. On reaching the age of 16, I was required to take up a second instrument. Feeling that it was too late and too expensive to begin violin, I chose singing—which gradually became more and more important and led, two years later in 1962, to my becoming a full-time undergraduate student at the Guildhall with singing as my principal study. By then, my piano playing was a little more advanced and I was delighted when I was allowed to begin lessons with Cimbro himself, in spite of the fact that piano was now my second study. The next three years were inspirational. Cimbro cut a rather dashing and somewhat Lisztian figure, handsome, magnetic and full of energy. I worked hard for him, although I never felt worthy enough to be his pupil, as I was the least advanced of all his students. However, there has always been a great rapport between us, which, in hindsight, might have been due to the fact that we shared the same working-class London background, although I didn’t know it at the time and indeed it would have amazed me if I had, so romantic and sophisticated was his image. In those days, professors of his stature receive enormous respect and few of us would have dared to ask about the personal lives of our teachers. Certainly I had put him on a kind of artistic pedestal and would have been far too shy and socially inexperienced to discuss matters unconnected with music.
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin However, my happiest memory of those student times was when I once spent the day at the seaside with Cimbro and a fellow piano student called David Coussell and I still treasure the photographs that we took on the beach that day. (see page 21) My mother had insisted that during my time at college, I should obtain a diploma in my second study as well as in my first, so Cimbro had his work cut out in order to raise my standard as a pianist. His teaching was so detailed, though, that when he suddenly had to take a term out with a serious illness, I still managed to pass the exam with no further lessons. As a fairly mediocre sight reader, I cannot imagine being able to have achieved that standard with any other teacher. One Saturday morning, now newly qualified to teach piano, I filled in for my friend Sonia, teaching piano to the Junior Exbitioners. For both of us the wheel had come full circle, but when I realised that each and every young pupil appearing before me was already better than I was, I knew it was time to close the lid on my career as a pianist and leave it to so many other Cimbro students who, in the future, would make him proud and help to cement his reputation as a great pianist and teacher. —Teresa Cahill LRAM, AGSM. 11th August, 2011. Website: www.teresacahill.net.
Mary Carmichael (from her obituary): Mary Carmichael, musician, teacher, former principal of Oxenfoord Castle School Died 12 August, 1998, in Devon, aged 58 She was an active and outstanding student at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama, studying piano with the eccentric, but brilliant, Cimbro Martin. He was probably the first person to recognise the extent of Mary’s musical talent and gave her hours of extra tuition, often late into the night, in exchange for babysitting for his young family. After her graduation from the Guildhall, Mary completed a BMus at Durham University and moved seamlessly into a freelance career as an accompanist, conductor and singer before entering the teaching profession.
Mary Carmichael was a passionate teacher. She loved the company of young people, who responded naturally to her enthusiasm and exuberance. She taught at a range of London schools before her appointment as Head of Music at the City of London School for Girls when she was still in her twenties. Subsequently she spent four years as Lecturer in Music and Education in the University of London, Goldsmiths’ College. She returned to her native Scotland in 1979 to take up the headship of Oxenfoord Castle School. Oxenfoord, an independent and individual school in beautiful surroundings, which Mary loved, offered the opportunity to educate children with a wide range of needs and talents. Mary took immense pleasure in encouraging each child to raise her expectations of herself, and realize her creative and academic potential. Mary Clifford (née Townsend): I was a student at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama from 1949 to 1955 and studied with Mr Martin throughout these years. I resumed further lessons when I returned to London in 1957 until 1963. I was teaching in Croydon and living in Addiscombe, so I was to the family home in Shirley. I therefore baby sat at various times. The last time I met Cimbro was in the early 1970’s, when he was adjudicating at the Cheltenham Competitive Festival.
Ginnie Cox (née Blackmore-Reed): Just come across your article in the GSM&D magazine—that photo just jumped out of the page at me. Although I didn’t study piano with Cimbro (how I wish I had done) I was part of his Junior Exhibition Scheme and taught aural training and melody/ harmony to many of the young hopefuls during the 1965-67 period after graduating. To me, Cimbro was synonymous with the SPOTTED BOW TIE!! I recall his quick wit and mischievous sparkling eyes, also his dismissive attitude to the harpsichord (with which I had recently become enamored since purchasing a beautiful double-manual beast which had belonged to Benjamin Britten) but most of all it was those spotted bow ties!
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
David Coussell with Cimbro
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin Helen Crayford: Indeed I was a pupil of Cimbro at Junior Guildhall from 196171! I have very strong memories of my lessons with him and his methods—brilliant and never patronizing, bearing in mind I was only 8 when I started there.
Curtis Dabek: I was a pupil of Cimbro’s between 1965 and 1969. It does seem a long time ago,but I do remember my lessons well. My first study was as a singing student, but as you probably know,we had to take a second subject, and as I was a reasonable pianist, this was what I took as a second subject. I was assigned to your father, who attempted to get me to work!! I was very lazy as a student as I was a good sight reader,and was able to use this to great advantage! I remember the first year I was at the Guildhall, Cimbro gave me one of Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues to work on. I sort of did, but used my sight reading a lot as well. I’m sure that Cimbro knew, as on the fatal day that week 13 arrived, I still had not got it to his standard and he threatened to throw me out of the window (i.e., from the fourth floor) unless I worked!!!! He did see me through the third year exam which gave me a Licentiateship and then I was able to “stop” having lessons. Apart from the Bach Prelude and Fugue, Cimbro introduced me to Kabalevsky’s Sonatina and also Bartok’s Sonatina. So I must have progressed somewhat and not have stayed on the one piece throughout my time at the Guildhall!! I seem to remember a Mozart Sonata and one of the Bach Keyboard Suites being on my list of studied works. I gained a lot of insight into the different composers to whom he introduced me and he was a very patient man.
Anthony Digger: I was at the Guildhall in the late 50’s, and, whilst I cannot claim to have been a pupil of Cimbro, our paths crossed on a number of occasions.
I actually studied with Frank Laffitte for 4 years. As you probably know he held Cimbro in high regard and got him to turn for him when he was broadcasting etc. I met Cimbro on several occasions through Frank and he was subsequently one of the examiners at my diploma. After that Frank would sometimes ask Cimbro to listen to me if I had some kind of performance coming up. As a result I came to know him better, and he later got me to do some teaching on the Junior Exhibitioner Scheme. I would add that I always found Cimbro kind and interested. He seemed to always have a smile and he always spoke, though as I say, I was somewhat on the periphery of his circle.
David Flatau: Your father was handsome, and gifted, but in some ways rather shy. We had a great affinity, but we also had our moments. My piano technique such as it is—and I can still fly around the keys playing my own compositions—is due in no small measure to Cimbro’s teaching. I only attended half an hour a week, but was with him for around 9 years, taking my GSM piano exams, from Gr 4 to Gr 8 B performers. I had my first piano lessons in Kings Lynn Norfolk, where I was evacuated to, during the war. I then moved to a Jewish Hostel in Dawlish, and had lessons for about a year. When I returned to West Acton, where we had moved to from the East End of London. I had the odd piano teacher during my teens finally arriving at the Guildhall. I was by then a telephone typist in the Press Association and used to walk around Fleet Street and Carpenter Street or was it John Carpenter St and saw the Guildhall. I was impressed with what I saw. I could only afford to have half hour piano lessons and unable to sit for any scholarships. My first teacher was continental. I cannot remember his name. But after a year I was not at ease with him. I then found another teacher, again we did not gel. Finally, I met Cimbro on the steps leading to the piano rooms and asked him if he would teach me the piano. He used to say I had the nervous touch of a Horowitz. But I had met some of his highly gifted students and had no illusions
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin about my pianistic skills. I remained with him for around nine years. In spite of your father’s charm, he could be a little forbidding and was not always at ease with strangers. Sue Gilpin: I was indeed a ‘secretary’ to Cimbro and Max. I did the “business” and Cimbro and Max were “creative”! I worked with Cimbro and Max from 1965, by which time the Junior Exhibitioners Scheme was well established. They got on very well and they had the same principle of teaching with budding talented musicians. Max gave me a book about the Guildhall but JES was scarcely mentioned. I can’t believe it! All the colleges have JES departments, now. They feed the ranks of full-time students! So many people have gone to fulltime study at Guildhall. It is long time ago! Helen Crayford was the star pupil. Cimbro was a very successful teacher and he was the best of his time. Cimbro taught me piano, and Max violin—because I helped them with JES—and I paid a reduced rate, as other staff did. I wasn’t very good but I did improve slightly! I am, now, 95 years old!
Andy Gray: That photograph - taken over twenty-five years before I first met your father and I’m seeing him again for the first time in nearly thirty years—and he is INSTANTLY recognizable to me. I just clicked on the link and he shot out of the screen and smacked me in the face. I wish I had thought to prepare myself, so I would have been ready to judge my initial reaction. Alas, I didn’t, and as a result am not sure what it was that struck me first. It might have been the detail—the hair style, the bow-tie, the breast pocket handkerchief or perhaps the immaculately clean shoes! All these sartorial characteristics were immediately
remembered from the man I knew in the mid-70’s. Although not the jacket—which has the look of a sports jacket from what I can see, although I might be wrong. The Cimbro I knew went for tailored black or dark blue, single breasted, three buttons (never done up) and more than a hint of Saville Row in the sharp cut of the lapels. After the familiar detail, though, its the energy that hits you. Where the hell was he going? If I didn’t know he was a pianist, I would have said he was a boxer. There was always a bit of the caged animal in him somehow, and that stayed with him till the end by the way. You should know that—it never left him, even at the end. The last time I saw him in hospital, just before he died, it was always “bloody doctors” and “I’ll be out of here on Monday, I hope you’re ready with that Chopin? Monday. Right?” (The Chopin in question was one of the Ballades I remember. I sweated buckets over the weekend, terrified of what he might say about my severely under-rehearsed rendition come Monday.) Even when we had lessons in the room at the Guildhall, I always had the impression there was a marathon runner in the room with me, pacing away behind me on a journey to who knew where and at the same time demanding more from my performance all the time. Always telling me to forget the fingering, concentrate on “getting the sense of the thing”. And they were all “things”, to be struggled with and beaten into submission. If necessary, to be improved—all the little tricks of the trade he knew having learnt them from God only knows where. (Like doubling up octaves in Saint-Saëns to make it more brilliant!) Yes! I remember the dummy keyboard—that contraption! He had it in the bedroom in Kent. I always thought of it as some sort of torture instrument. I could never understand his enthusiasm for it. He kept trying to convince me and all he did was to make me more determined I wasn’t going to play ball. It was one of the few things we disagreed about I seem to remember!! By the way, I am in possession of your father’s copy of Burke’s Peerage “Who’s Who in Music”. It’s the fifth edition, published in 1969—Cimbro’s entry appears on page 206. You said something in an earlier mail about contact with Jimmy Gibb. He had told you that your father didn’t really socialise with other staff at the Guildhall and you should speak to his pupils. Remember? Something like that. From what you said, I rather had the impression that Jimmy was
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011 implying that your father was a rather unsociable personality? Am I reading between the lines correctly here? Because I would want you to know that from what I saw, Jimmy, the Peppin sisters (Geraldine and Mary) and a few others formed a bit of a clique in the piano department. You were either in or out. And that applied to students as well as other staff. I was “in” because I had talent, was modestly good looking (Geraldine Peppin was forever trying to arrange for me to play piano duets with the best looking female pupils (who was I to complain?) and possibly because I came from the “right” kind of social background. Cimbro was always “out” because, in my opinion, he wasn’t interested in playing the same games as they played. BUT— your father was never “anti-social”. Far from it, he was one of the most charming and generous men I have ever met. With his time, his erudition, his knowledge, his friendship and advice, with everything. He simply had no time for what I suspect he saw as the useless clatter of the chattering classes. He chose to keep himself to himself as a defense mechanism for survival and probably to avoid the boredom that inevitably accompanies conversations with clique members!! If I misread what Jimmy was saying, I apologise. If not, I’ve been wanting to put the record straight with you since I read that mail.
Christopher Gunning: Well how interesting! I feel rather embarrassed about Cimbro Martin. I was a pupil of his for a couple of years, but then defected to Jimmy Gibb, along with several others. The reason was not because of any dissatisfaction with Cimbro’s teaching (he was excellent when he got down to it) but that he just wouldn’t stop talking! Several lessons went by with no actual piano playing whatever—just talk, talk, talk. And the talk was interesting and illuminating, but heck, I wanted to become a decent pianist! Actually, never succeeded. Cimbro loved to talk! He was certainly a mine of information and many of his opinions were—well—opinionated! He detested some of the other professors. There was a good deal of contemporary music he hated too, as well as a great many of
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the so called “leading” pianists. Others, he adored - Horovitz, for example. And Rubenstein. It was a little difficult at the time, but after two years I felt I needed a different approach, my main problem being that the lessons were taken up with talk rather than playing! Sometimes I would not even play a note! So I went to James Gibb, and so did several other of Cimbro’s pupils at the same time. Oh dear—he was upset, and with hindsight it wasn’t handled well at all. Cimbro was my piano professor for two years at the GSM. He was a fine teacher, and devoted a lot of time to me, including some at his home which I believe was somewhere in Kent. Gosh how interesting! “Merlin and Martyn” now rings a bell and I think your father told me about the double act once. (see following page) Other thoughts: He always wore bow ties. He was always very smart. He could play the fool on occasion when in a good mood. He always occupied the same room right at the top of the building—I think room 68, but wouldn’t swear to it. At home he had the very best hi-fi in the world—at least that was his opinion! Quad electrostatic loudspeakers, Quad amplifier, I think a Thorens deck and an SME pick up arm. He thought Yehudi Menuhin was the bees knees. Jimmy Gibb is right—Cimbro didn’t mix with the other professors at all, except for Max Morgan who, with Enid Lewis and Cimbro, was in charge of the Junior Exhibition Scheme on Saturdays.
Glyn Hale: I’m afraid there is nothing I can add to whatever you already know about your father, other than that he was a very good teacher whom I greatly admired. (I did, however, fail my finals through inadequate preparation—but the fault probably lay with me rather than with your dad.) Our relationship was strictly a teacher/pupil one. I know nothing at all of his previous career or of his personal life, other than that he lived in Shirley. (I didn’t even know he was a father.)
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin Frank Harvey: I studied piano with Cimbro Martin, as I recall, from 1959 to 1965. At first, I attended lessons at John Carpenter Street, and then at Dinely Studios at Baker Street. (see page 28) I also remember having a few lessons at an address at Croydon, and at another address at Bromley. On one occasion we had a meal together in central London somewhere. He was a very inspiring teacher, and I learnt a great deal from him. Thanks to him, I gained a very good result when obtaining an ARCM teaching diploma. At the time I was an army musician, and lessons with him were a welcome relief from the less attractive side of army life. After I left the army in 1966, I rather lost track of him, unfortunately. I went on to get a BA degree from Southampton University, and my marks in the keyboard skills part of the course were particularly good. I am sure that I owe this result to his teaching. Cimbro told me very little about his life outside the Guildhall, and he certainly never mentioned the “Eight Pianos”. (see page 32) As I have mentioned, I was still in the army when I was having lessons with Cimbro. Frankly, I was not always a very mature person in those days, and I often feel that if I had met him a few years later, after I had profited from my university course, and put the army behind me, I could possibly have made a lot more of what he taught me.
Martin. He was a committed teacher who gave generously of his time both at the Guildhall and at his home in Shirley at weekends. I was lucky enough to have been chosen to receive these (free) lessons in Cimbro’s own family time and I appreciated this very much. Cimbro invited me to become a teacher in the Exhibitioner Scheme which I did, and I gained considerable teaching experience in doing so. I remember Cimbro with gratitude as a great pianist and enthusiastic teacher. I am now eighty. Does this make me the oldest surviving pupil?
Ivan Lane: Paul writes: I called Ivan Lane, Cimbro’s oldest surviving pupil at this moment, at 95 years-old. He lives in Palm Desert, California. When a woman answered the phone and I said, “I am sorry to bother you. My name is Paul Martin, and I am the son of Cimbro Martin who taught at the Guildhall School of Music in London. I am looking for a gentleman named Ivan Lane, whom, I believe, was a student of my father’s.” “Oh my goodness. Hold on,” said the woman who answered. And, then, holding the phone away from her mouth, she called Rosemary Healing (née Ferguson): out into the room she was in, “Ivan. This is a very special call. I studied with Cimbro from 1957 to 1961. Piano was my first You need to take this one.” subject at that time, although I wasn’t very good! Your father And there he was. On the other end of my ear. He was vivacious, was extremely good at teaching technique—many of the tips he coherent and extremely excited. Neither he nor I could really gave me I use with my pupils even now. believe we were talking to each other and that the connection we Cimbro was a very important part of my graduate course and had was Cimbro. But it was real. And from his end, there came I have happy memories of my lessons with him. a surge of heart which very nearly knocked me off the porch into the river. He told me that there were two great influences in his life, and that one of them was Cimbro. Then he went on to say he was, at that moment, practicing the “new technique your father Audrey (Kitchener) Jones: I was a full time student at the Guildhall from 1949-53 and taught me”. He performs regularly, apparently, at a home for during that time I was fortunate to have lessons with Cimbro Alzheimer patients in Palm Desert. “Cimbro’s technique has been the foundation of my entire life,”
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin he said. He began telling stories, almost instantly: “I went to England (from America) and applied at the Guildhall, and was accepted,” he said. “I met with the Dean and he asked me what I had been doing and what I wished to study. So, I told him I wanted to study conducting, arranging and composition.” “Well,” replied the Dean, “that leaves you with a half an hour still to fill. What is your instrument?” “The piano, sir,” says Ivan. “Although I really only fiddle about with it, now.” “Nevertheless, we will set you up with Cimbro Martin for piano, then,” says the Dean, who dispatches Ivan off to Cimbro’s studio, where he waited for quite a while. When Cimbro entered, he asked Ivan what he had been doing, and Ivan repeated the liturgy, “I’ve been conducting and arranging and composing.” Cimbro looked at him and said, “Should I be teaching you, or should you be teaching me?” That was when Ivan first told me how old he is. 95 (then). Just three years younger than Cimbro. At the moment I called him, he said, he was practicing “Cimbro’s New Technique. A technique upon which I built my life and career”. Some career. Ivan spent his life in Hollywood, New York and Las Vegas as a composer, arranger and conductor for television, movies and variety shows.
offered a place at the Guildhall he agreed to take me on. There followed some very stimulating lessons. His outlook on music in general was thought provoking and positive and helped to influence my playing. During my career I have been influenced by what he taught me and have encouraged my pupils to reach the high standards he believed in. I remember Cimbro with great affection and appreciation for all he did for me, including starting my long and happy connection with the Guildhall School.
Paul Martin: Let me tell you, as Cimbro’s eldest son, I am not proud of the fact that I was almost completely ignorant of my father’s life and legacy before my beloved Carol started researching. Then, once I began to read and assimilate the research, I completely freaked out: I couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t stay awake; I slept all the time; I was in a state of shock; I was in an intense state of excitement, bliss and purpose bordering on Nirvana; I wanted more; I wanted less; I didn’t want any at all; I wanted to talk to everyone who knew my father; I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone, to email anyone, to correspond or communicate with anyone who knew my father, in any way. In short, I was a mess. It really is amazing, having a famous father—I know: He may not be “famous” as in Elizabeth Taylor, whose deodorant the word has become synonymous with; but he is known, loved and respected worldwide, as well as listed in many journals and research tomes, featured in newspapers and lauded as Jill Lang: a “Major influence on British Pianism in the 20th Century” by Cimbro Martin was my piano teacher, both during my time at contemporaries, so that is surely in the “famous” category, don’t the Guildhall School in John Carpenter Street and afterwards, you think? Especially if you didn’t really take the time to get when after my marriage both he and his second wife Louise to know him while he was living—your memories are suddenly became good personal friends of ours, as indeed Louise still is. reinforced; suddenly clarified; enhanced; and enlarged, by the Not only was Cimbro an inspiring teacher, he was also a great public arena. character. It is true to say that there was never a dull moment You sit and read from reams of information your wife has around the dinner table, talking and laughing. These were happy found in libraries, on the web, from telephone conversations and occasions. emails, and learn about this person who you knew as “Daddy”, I was a pupil of Maisie Aldridge at the Junior Department of who is as personal to you as anyone could be, I suppose, since RCM and following my time there she recommended Cimbro as it is his seed from which you emerged. Yet all this information a teacher for me and so I found myself playing to him and when has come to you from “out there” in the public domain. It is
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011 surrealism in practice. The last time I talked to him, perhaps a very few months before his death, Cimbro called me at my loft in Manhattan. We had an absolutely wonderful, very long, extremely wide-ranging, Father and Son conversation. And we got to tell each other we loved each other. That, at least, if nothing else, we both did before he died. Thank God. That was more than 35 years ago. So, this is a way for me to say, “Helloh, Daddy. You are a good man, a great musician and an inspiring teacher.”
Now I am old and quite beyond doing more than occasionally swelling audiences at GSMD but I never forget my debt of gratitude to the institute & people who made it possible.
Michael Omer: Have just seen your piece in the GSM News about your father’s Centennial. I was a student of his, from 1972-75, and indeed for one year before I went to Guildhall. He changed my life! I am sure you won’t be surprised to learn, it was not just from the musical point of view either! We would have the most amazing philosophical discussions, Bob Norris, I am responding to your article about Cimbro in the GSM and he showed me how to let go and think. All of this informed magazine. I was his student at GSM from Sept 1961 to July my development as a musician, because of course you can’t 65 and then ad hoc until 1975. He was possibly the greatest divorce the human from the musical! influence on my musical and political life at that time. The I was saddened to learn of his death on the very day of my foundations he instilled have lasted through my schoolteaching graduation ceremony. He had been off with ill health before career as a musician and inspirer and now since retirement as that of course, when I was lucky to have Paul Berkowitz as a fabulous deputy, but no-one was like Cimbro. a piano teacher. When I gave my first recital at St Phillip’s in the city, he hobbled along with his leg strapped up after his accident at a petrol pump omitting to apply the hand brake. He sponsored me into membership of ISM. Jacqueline Paye (née Hollings): I was delighted to see a photo of Cimbro in the GSM News magazine, which brought back so many happy memories. I had the privilege of being a student of his for 5 years—1947 to 1952—and found him a very inspiring teacher. Joyce Odiase: Thank you Paul Martin. Your article in the GSMD News revived I began lessons with him while still at school—about grade 6 old memories for me. Over a 4 year period beginning roughly standard. Within 7 months I was performing Beethoven’s 1st in 1949, I was a student of Cimbro Martin’s. I dimly remember piano concerto with the GSM orchestra. He was very generous John Carpenter St. and that Mr. Martin was very kind. One day with his time. I recall one occasion when we spent over three he threw open the door & invited some outsiders in the corridor hours studying and analyzing just the first phrase of the slow to come in and observe what a wonderful sight-reader I was! movement. We were so absorbed that we did not realize that This lead on to my great interest in accompanying singers and, it had gone 9pm by the time we finished, and the porter was when I eventually left GMSD with a clutch of certificates and two downstairs by the front door waiting to lock up! I learned more medals and found myself in Nigeria, I was able to earn my living about phrasing, memorizing, interpretation and performance in and support my family by teaching in two major schools and by those three hours than in all the previous years of piano lessons put together. providing regular programmes on TV.
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
Sometime in the 1930’s, The Eight Pianos recruited two students out of the Royal Academy, both of whom ended up in the ranks of Guildhall School of Music Professors—Cimbro Martin and Alfred Neiman. (Cimbro is the first man seated in the top row and Alfred Neiman is the man standing at his right elbow). This was a well-known vaudeville band, playing all sorts of classics and more popular numbers (rather the equivalent of the Boston Pops) in the larger vaudeville halls. The Eight Pianos travelled—replete with their eight Bechstein concert grands, a tympanist and a vibraphone player—all over Europe and the British Isles. Above is the band’s promo shot.
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011 He was brilliant. His influence has reached out down the years with my own performing and teaching career. Now 80, I am about to retire but I have never forgotten Cimbro and the happy time I had at the GSM. I first met Cimbro when I changed teachers at age 15 after six years of tuition at GSMD with Orlando Morgan during the war years. My father had taught me since I was four, but joined the Royal Marines in 1940. So he arranged for me to audition for the Guildhall. I must have been one of their youngest students ever. I was not a Junior Exhibitioner—that scheme had not yet begun. Orlando Morgan was an old man—about 90, I believe—who had been brought out of retirement to help out because most of the younger professors were in the forces. After the war my father agreed with the GSMD Principal that I would benefit from a much younger teacher, as Orlando said I had made very little progress with him. Thus my lessons with Cimbro began. I was apprehensive before the first lesson, but I soon relaxed when I was warmly welcomed by this charming man with the dazzling smile. I performed one of my pieces to him and we, afterwards, chatted at length about my hopes and aspirations. At that time I was considering an art career. I had already been awarded a place at the Slade Art College in London to start in the following September. (I now paint for a hobby). Cimbro seemed puzzled by this, until I explained that Orlando had told my father that I was useless with no talent(!) and only continued giving me lessons because Dad was away fighting for his country. Orlando’s opinion of me was based on the fact that I rarely practised the peices he set me because I considered them ‘baby stuff.’ Instead, I was actually spending hours of practise learning the second and third movements of Tchaikowsky’s First Piano Concerto!! Orlando never knew—I was too shy, scared and stupid to tell him. Cimbro was astonished at this revelation, and aghast that I was considering a future in art. He spent much of that first lesson talking me out of it, saying, “Compare our hands—they are built the same. Anyone with 10 fingers can play brilliantly if they really want to become a great pianist and be prepared for constant hard and dedicated work, with 100 percent committment and hours of practise.” So the deal was done; the work begun; and I was on my way.
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Art was forgotten ... until many years later. I was often tickled by Cimbro’s sense of humour. Once, I entered his studio and noticed that his clock was running backwards. He remarked, “If it continues like this, we shall all soon be back in the Crimean War!”
Jonathon Rutherford: Cimbro was an heroic figure to me in the few years after I left school, and I learned from his musical standards. I was a Junior Exhibitioner! Helen Crayford and I were the two youngest there and we hung around and had a good laugh I seem to remember. By the time I had left the Yehudi Menuhin School and returned to him as a part-timer at the Guildhall, I think he lived alone. I visited him at his flat for a meal and a lesson on Sunday a couple of times. I remember he showed me his score of Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder (facsimile of manuscript?). I had been studying Schoenberg’s piano concerto with him. After 4 years at the GSM (1969-73, aged 16-20), with Cimbro’s blessing and advice, I went to France to study with Jacques Fevrier, as John York had done just previously. Cimbro taught me the dignity of playing without fuss, without waste of muscular action. He would always give Horowitz as an example of good playing. I, at the time was very keen on Peter Maxwell Davies, and the Beatles! These were two areas of music Cimbro could not appreciate, and I was distanced from him in a way by not being able to share this. When I went to France, I wrote a letter to him several months later, and he replied already very ill with cancer. His handwriting was a bit wobbly. I was shocked. I had said that I had been to a concert with Daniel Barenboim playing Mozart Piano Concertos with the English Chamber Orchestra and I enthused. Cimbro’s wonderful and forthright reply was that “Daniel Barenboim was a Smart Alec and that if I wanted to hear good Mozart Playing I should listen to Alfred Brendel”. I put that in adverted commas because I feel I can remember his exact words, though may have lost the original letter, I am afraid. I do not entirely disagree with Cimbro even now about Daniel Barenboim and Alfred Brendel,
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin though I also have huge admiration for Daniel Barenboim’s work trying to break down Israeli/Palestinian tension through the power of music.
GSMD in his time and Head of Keyboard Studies there. He must today be in his 90’s but as sharp as ever and tells me that he remembers playing Cimbro’s arrangement for eight pianos of Rossini’s Semiramide overture. He may also recall names and addresses of Cimbro’s students. Jimmy’s address is as follows ... He said it is a disgrace that the archivist has no record of Cimbro’s time in GSMD and could Elizabeth Snowball: hardly believe it! At any rate, he would be happy to hear from I read the Guildhall School News Magazine. Hello Paul, you you which is the main thing. may remember me—Elizabeth Snowball—who came to babysit Sorry that I can’t be of more help but wish you every success at your home when I was a student of Cimbro Martin and your in rescuing Cimbro’s great contribution to British pianism. mother, Louise, had violin lessons with Reginald Morley, also my violin tutor. Very sincerely yours, Cimbro was one of the judges for the International Chopin Emeritus Professor Malcolm Troup Competition in the 60’s. I was in the concert hall at the Guildhall, listening to the Carl Flesch finals. I had just taken my piano diploma. Cimbro called me out of the auditorium at the finals and said, “You’ve passed. And to think: When you came to me you didn’t know one end of the piano from the other.” Sonia Tuban (née Davidoff): He was on the top floor when I first went to the Guildhall. He An early memory: Cimbro getting that I was playing by ear always shook hands as you entered the room. And he always and that I had hoodwinked previous teachers who used to play shook hands when you left the room. None of the other professors the pieces to me. When I asked him if he would just play it he ever did that. said Not likely! My sightreading improved but the lack of a solid ability to read confidently really slowed me down! Extra lessons on a Sunday: Apart from a lesson there was a delicious meal from Louise and the chance to hear great soloists on the magnificent Hi Fi system - enormous speakers, records never held by hand only tongs, a special alcohol to clean them Professor Malcolm Troup and needless to say the discs all looked brand new! He gave me Dear Carol Martin, a set of 78s of Cortot playing the Chopin ballads when he was able to get them on vinyl from France! Where did I keep them? At Thank you for your letter regarding your father-in-law, the floor level in my wardrobe . . need I say more?! late Cimbro Martin. Alas and alack, I only came on the staff of I really appreciated his musicality and versatility although GSMD as Director of Music in 1975 having been part-time on I really never quite got what he meant by - you don’t listen the professorial staff for the two years previous. Thus I had enough - but I did when I was teaching more. Also he encouraged very little if anything to do with Cimbro although I can see his individuality although I spent too much time trying to imitate face before me as I write. He had his studio on the top floor of Cortot or Schnabel and failing! One learns eventually to be the old GSMD building in John Carpenter Street and was a law inspired to really discover the score and not slavishly imitate. unto himself so we saw next to nothing of him. Nevertheless, He went through a brief phase when he wanted to tune the he was a force to be reckoned with and one of GSMD’s most piano himself. So my lesson started and he would say - just a important teachers. Someone who might remember more about minute, I’ll just sharpen up the E (or whatever) and needless to him is my old friend James Gibb, who was himself a pillar of the say it was difficult to do and he’d yank the thingy one way and
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011 then the other way and bingo my lesson was over. I was pretty sore about that! During the divorce he became extremely unwell and I forced him to come and stay with us for a while and arranged for an excellent GP to see him. Standing outside the bedroom my mum and I heard him asked how old he was and in spite of ourselves we both pressed our ears to the door to hear but we couldn’t quite make out what he said!! He bought us a lovely china biscuit container as he’d eaten so many whilst staying with us!! I still have it. I really missed him when he suffered a brain bleed during my 2nd year, I think. I had another teacher who covered for him and he was so useless and I had a concert to prepare for! Later he had sciatica from wearing a plaster cast on his foot which was run over by his car when he was pushing it! He was quite cranky for a while-who can blame him! He so wanted a pupil who would become the concert pianist he would have liked to be and I am sorry that I couldn’t live up to those expectation. When I sit down and play something well - I always wish that Cim was here to hear it!
believe) on the second floor of the old building in John Carpenter Street, London, EC4. Later I became his colleague when I joined the teaching staff—as a music theorist and historian—and we chatted occasionally during tea-breaks. I gave up this position after only two years, when I joined the BBC, and Cimbro quite rightly pursued me for the benefit of his students! Someone who may have a livelier memory of those days than I, is my old musical friend Dr. Malcolm Troup, who was during the early ‘seventies the Director of the GSM. He still lives in London, and I had dinner with him there in December. If you decide to contact him you may certainly use my name. It does not surprise me that you were unable to find anyone at the GSM to help you. The School moved into a new building at the Barbican, and its archival records leave something to be desired. I know that they now have a regular magazine dealing with student and faculty matters, and they have just put out an appeal for the Alumni to provide them with contact information. Alan Walker: They also have a website. Dear Carol Martin: While it would be a pleasure for me to make your acquaintance, and that of Paul, I would not want you to make an arduous Thank you for your e-mail, and for your inquiries about my journey to Canada in the belief that I had some special insights correspondence with Cimbro Martin. I understand from one of to offer about Cimbro’s life and work. In your place I would the university archivists that copies have already been made for attempt to find out the names of some of Cimbro’s students, and you, and are now on their way. with the possible help of Dr. Troup, track them down through The correspondence is brief—three letters from Cimbro and whatever records the GSM has retained of those days. From two replies from me—and it dates from 1965. At that time I was such witnesses you might then be in a position to build up a already a producer with the British Broadcasting Corporation, picture of your father-in-law. and had left the teaching faculty of the Guildhall School of Good luck in your quest, and if you still wish to visit McMaster Music, where I had first met Cimbro. The letters concern one of University, I am sure that we could arrange something in the Cimbro’s young piano students, Sonja Davidoff, and express the month of February. hope that she may be given a BBC broadcast. My replies point out the nature of the process involved in bringing this about. Best wishes, I cannot claim to have known Cimbro well. During my student ALAN WALKER days at the GSM, his was one of the more important names on Dr. Alan Walker, F.R.S.C. the piano faculty, and I recall seeing the words ‘CIMBRO MARTIN’ McMaster University on the imposing wall-plate outside his teaching studio, located (I CANADA
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Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
John York: I studied with the “legendary” Cimbro from September 1966 till July 1971. I first met him as adjudicator at the Eastbourne Competitive Music Festival and as Guildhall grade examiner at my Eastbourne teacher’s house—I think it was he who gave me nearly full marks in grade 8—and it was easy to choose to go full time with him rather than the ‘leading’ profs at Guildhall, Sydney Harrison and James Gibb. (Harrison resigned anyway, in high dudgeon when he failed to get the Principal’s job.) I had no experience of James Gibb and was aware for the next five years that it was seen as an error on my part not to choose him or his cronies, the Peppin sisters—for all of whom Cimbro had scant praise and lots of contempt. He soon installed me as a piano teacher in the Saturday school, junior dept. The decision to study with him came back to bite me and him only when it came to my Finals when the outside adjudicator Peter Katin was knobbled and I very nearly failed—an outrageous injustice—and in the Gold Medal competition towards the end of my Guildhall career when I was virtually robbed of the prize, the winner being a violinist who played with music, against the rules, and has since drunk himself to death! Cimbro took it very badly indeed and my father tried to calm him down and drove all the way to Shortlands from Eastbourne—but Cimbro would not speak to him. Over the following year, while I was studying in Paris—he took me there around Christmas 1971 to meet and play for Jacques
Fevrier for postgrad teaching and helped me to get a French Government Scholarship—we shared a crappy hotel room near a metro station called ‘Duroc’ and even went to a crappy sex film, and I remember skidding in the ice en route from Calais, too!!! Cimbro was an extremely demanding teacher and such a fine man, sporting beautiful bow ties and jackets and perfectly pressed shirts of high quality. He always smelled of some expensive soap or cologne. He used often to invite me to his flat at weekends (I lived in Orpington, then West Dulwich) to listen to records of pieces I was studying and have extra lessons—you’ll remember his obsessive record playing principles and gadgets?—and he inspired me even to learn the third concerto of Rachmaninoff, a work which at that time was regarded as too hard and positively dangerous! I still see his handwriting in so many of my scores, neat and refined and elegantly scripted, to the point, concise. He was also a great raconteur and wit—his stories could go on and on! He was often impatient with other pianists, colleagues, famous players, composers etc. He had high standards. He also showed no discrimination (as was shown by his fellow profs) against piano accompaniment or chamber music —thank God—as that has been my career ever since. I regard him as the mainspring to my 35 year success in the profession.
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
Like Father Like Son: 36
Reminiscences • Written, Compiled and Edited By Paul and Carol Martin
cimbro percy martin
Harold Percy Ernest Martin
paul martin
(photo by Carol)
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For Cimbro On The 100th Anniversary Of His Birth • August 23, 2011
November 16, 2009
Carol was just surfing around in cyberspace, looking for a new place to put our roots down in, when she came across the website of the Burbank Senior Artists Colony (“www.seniorartistscolony. com”). Wafting across the room to where I was sitting, writing an essay on my laptop (and, no, we don’t email each other, or text, twitter, facebook, or ‘chat,’ when we are both working on computers in the same room; we actually talk to each other over the top of the screens), like multi-colored smoke, came the strains of Satchmo singing “A Kiss To Build A Dream On”. Suddenly I was thrown backwards in time. And there was Cimbro (I wish I could have called him “Dad”, but I was only allowed “Daddy” until I came of age, after which, I think, I called him “Cimbro”), waxing poetic about the absolutely astounding abilities of the incomparable Louis Armstrong, and how he was a
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“virtuoso”—which moniker Cimbro attributed to very few modern musicians, especially practitioners of “popular” music, in my experience, valuing as he did the discipline, effort and training which must be the underpinning of such an accomplished artist— while he transcribed one of the great man’s solos. I am beginning to remember how liberal and inclusive Cimbro was, which is a blessing, because my embedded memories are all of a rather stern, forbidding and disciplinarian father, whose judgments were unequivocal and unquestionable. I now float, with Satchmo, on a brilliantly diamantine image of my own father’s sparkling intellect, cutting wit, fabulously rich sense of humor, and depth of thought, and look at his image: Lying, propped on one elbow, grape in hand, black pre-Raphaelite hair wind blown, on the beach in Spain. Paul