Ole Bull, Adventures in America, part 3

A violinist cradles his instrument in his arms
while he gazes away from the camera lens
towards a distant audience.
The anonymous photographer
has left no marks,
no location or date,
just a simple caption.

Ole Bull

The name confused many people then,
and still does today too,
like some silly joke about an old man.
But for those who knew him,
he was Oo-lay Boo-ll,
the great Norwegian virtuoso of the violin.

 

 

 

 

 

This is the third, and final, episode
in my series on three photos of Ole Bull.
Here is part 1.
and part 2.

"It is hopeless for the occasional visitor
to try to keep up with Chicago –
she outgrows her prophecies faster
than she can make them.
She is always a novelty;
for she is never the Chicago
you saw when you passed
through the last time."
— Mark Twain

 

Chicago, Illinois
The Great Conflagration, as seen from the prairie
Harper's Weekly
28 October 1871

 

The Great Chicago Fire of 8-10 October 1871 is remembered as one of the worst catastrophes  in American history. Over three days a huge fire swept through the city, destroying approximately 3.3 square miles (9 km2) of Chicago's center district; killing over 300 people, and leaving more than 100,000 residents homeless. It did not take long for photographers to record the devastation.

Chicago, Tremont House,
after the fire, 8 October 1871
Source: GreatChicagoFire.org

The Tremont House, the grand hotel where Ole Bull had stayed during his winter concert tour of 1868, was gone. The fire advanced with such unimaginable intensity that it consumed entire city blocks leaving nothing but masonry and rubble. The area which suffered the most was in the center of Chicago, where the court house, city offices, businesses, hotels, and theaters were located.

Excerpt from 1871 Map of Chicago

Chicago, Sherman House,
after the fire, October 8, 1871
Source: loc.gov

A number of photographers produced stereoscopic photos which used a double lens camera that made two images. When viewed through a special holder that separated the double-sided photograph for each eye, an illusion of depth was created. Here I've shown only the left side of a stereo photograph of what remained of the Sherman House, another grand hotel two blocks west of the Tremont, after the Great Fire of 1871. Soon even grainy photos of the disaster became a popular souvenir of Chicago.

Chicago, Drake's Block,
after the fire, 8 October 1871
Source: loc.gov

 

 

One block diagonally southeast from the Tremont was the majestic six-story Field, Leiter & Co., a dry goods store located on Drake's block at the corner of State and Washington. The fire reduced it to a smoldering ruin. Likewise one block down on State St, the Bookseller's Row building, where the Western News Company had its business, was now transformed into a grim skeleton of the once impressive edifice.

 

Chicago, Bookseller's Row, State St.
after the fire, 8 October 1871
Source: loc.gov

The first newspaper reports of the Chicago Fire shocked the nation. Later, when the public saw the apocalyptic images, the destruction seemed unbelievable. How could a fire destroy a modern city like Chicago? It was too frightening to imagine.

Yet what is less known in our century is that on the same day, 8 October 1871, there was a greater fire in Peshtigo, Wisconsin, 250 miles north of Chicago on Lake Michigan. This monstrous wildfire burned through  roughly 1,200,000 acres of Wisconsin and Michigan forest and killed an estimated 1,500 to 2,500 people. But there was more unthinkable tragedy that day.

 

 

Map of the Great Fires of October 8, 1871
Source: ThumbWind.com

America's collective memory of 1871 has sadly forgotten that simultaneous to the horrific October 8th fires in Chicago and Peshtigo, 35 other enormous wildfires roared through Michigan on the east side of Lake Michigan. These towns and cities were hundreds of miles apart, and several were on Lake Huron. The Great Michigan Fire burned through 3,900 square miles of forest, destroying dozens of communities. It is believed that this incredible catastrophe was a combination of freak windstorm and an unusually dry summer in Michigan and Wisconsin. At the time it was impossible to make an accurate account of the death toll from these conflagrations, but a conservative estimate from the contemporary accounts is that over 500 people perished in the Michigan fires of 1871.

 

 

 

 

Chicago, Crosby's Opera House
during the fire, 8 October 1871
Source: Harper's Weekly, 28 October 1871

 

The illustration above depicts the imagined scene of when Crosby's Opera House was in flames. It was only a block south of the Tremont hotel, and was the last Chicago venue Ole Bull played during his 1868 concert tour.

 

In 1871 the technology of photography was not yet advanced to allow cameras to capture motion. But commercial artists had no difficult sketching this dreadful event. Two popular national magazines of the time, Harper's Weekly, and Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, produced dozens of illustrations of Chicago's terrible fire. The newspaper coverage quickly brought offers of aid and assistance from all around the country. But shockingly there were few reports on the Peshtigo fire and even less on the other Michigan wildfires. Consequently there are very few contemporary photos or illustrations of those disasters. 

Ole Bull was in America at the time,
recovering from ill health.
He must have read reports on the fire with horror,
thinking of his many friends and relations
in Chicago, Wisconsin, and Michigan.
 

But what could he do?

 

 

 

My third photograph of Ole Bull, like the previous two featured in part 1 and part 2, is a small carte de viste, the most common size photo in the 1860s and early 1870s. The larger cabinet card photos didn't become the popular standard until after 1873. Ole is older here, I think, with a bit more grey. His suit coat though, with its full cut sleeves allowing the vigorous arm movement of a violinist, looks the same. With the printed caption, it's definitely a souvenir from one of Ole's concert tours. Though it's possible it is of Europe origin, I believe it's more likely American-made.

It might have been taken in February/March 1870, when Ole and his son Alexander Bull, rode in a Pullman hotel car on the recently opened Pacific Railroad, the new transcontinental rail line, from Council Bluffs, Iowa to Oakland's Long Wharf on San Francisco Bay. For about 5 weeks he played several concerts in California, and then, via the train again, returned to the east. By April he was in New York City, then in June to Norway where he married the young Wisconsin woman, Sara Chapman Thorp (1850–1911). She was then age 19. Ole was 60.

 

In August 1870, Ole and Sarah returned to Madison, Wisconsin, where in September they held a second wedding with Sarah's American family and friends. It's not clear how long they stayed in Wisconsin, or if they even traveled back to Norway that year. Happily in March 1871 Ole and Sarah celebrated the birth of their only child, a daughter, Sara Olea.

In the summer of 1871, the Bull family were staying at a house in West Lebanon, Maine. Ole was not well. The brief reports said he'd fallen and had "congestion of the brain." It was considered serious enough that his usual fall/winter concert tour was delayed and then canceled. He was said to recuperating but no definitive plans were announced.

Then on 8 October 1871, the Great Fire exploded across the Midwest. Madison, Wisconsin, Sarah's hometown was just 140 miles northwest of Chicago, and 180 miles southeast of Peshtigo. Ole had many Norwegian friends in the Chicago area. He had performed many times in Milwaukee and Detroit, so he was very familiar with region and its people. Surely the descriptions of these terrible fires brought back memories of his experience with the January 1868 fire at Chicago's Farwell Hall, and the fiery collision of two steamboats on the Ohio River in December 1868. His response then was that the show must go on. I suspect that in the last months of 1871, as he read about the terrible fire, Ole Bull's determination to perform restored his health, in part, because he wanted to take his violin back to Chicago. 

 

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Chicago Evening Post
4 November 1871

 

Within days of the October 8th fire, offers of aid came from actors, musicians, theaters, and opera houses from around the country. The newspaper published detailed lists of theatrical names and organizations from America's other cultural centers, like New York, Boston, and San Fransisco which had contributed money to help the people of Chicago.

 

Mr. Vaas' Great Western Light Guard Band, which had accompanied Ole's 1868 concerts, and lost instruments in the Farwell Hall fire, were once again without instruments. Many members of the band were burned out their homes too. They reformed with borrowed instruments and proposed to go on a benefit concert tour. 

 

Chicago's newspapers did not advertise any concerts until January, and then only smaller groups. The grand theaters and concert halls in the city center were gone, destroyed in the fire, so the little entertainment that came to Chicago was forced to perform at smaller churches, theaters, and social halls in west and south Chicago.

 

Chicago Tribune
1 March 1872

 

On March 1st, 1872, nearly five months after the Great Fire, Ole Bull's new manager, Mr. T. R. Turnbull, announced concerts of the world-renowned violinist at the Central Hall in Chicago. His performances would be the first of any major artist since the fire. The Central Hall was an annex of the Trinity Episcopal Church, and located at the corner of Wabash Ave. and Twenty-second Street, 2 miles south of the city center, in an area not affected by the fire. The building is now gone, but I suspect it was much smaller than the 3,000 seats of Crosby's Opera House.

 

Ole would be assisted by a young soprano from Minnesota, Miss Gertrude Orme; a tenor, (formerly a bass!) from Philadelphia, Mr. William Candidus, (who was also piano manufacturer, William Steinway's brother-in-law); and a German pianist/accompanist from Leipzig, Mr. Alfred Richter. There was also an organist too, Mr. N. Ledochowski, probably the organist with the church. Admission was still $1.00 with no extra charge for reserved seats. Tickets went fast and it was reported that a thousand people were turned away at the door, as there was no standing room.

 

Following his concerts in Chicago and then in Milwaukee, Ole and his small troupe traveled westward to Iowa, for performances in towns along the rail line to St. Paul, Minnesota where Ole was booked for a concert on Monday evening, March 25th. Mr. Candidus, was indisposed with a severe cold, and was replaced by Mr. J. H. Chatterson. Perhaps out of consideration for looking after his health, Ole's wife, Sarah accompanied him on this tour. 

The reviews from the Davenport, Iowa concert were harsh. One reviewer said Mr. Richter's piano solos showed he was a pianist of "undeniable merit", but "not so much...can be said of his compositions which lack the inspiration of genius, and are more brusque than pleasing." The substitute tenor sang "with a very commonplace voice in an extremely mediocre manner". Miss Orme had "a tolerable voice but sang out of tune on the high notes." Another reviewer wrote that the young tenor had "an average voice with fair medium tones and upper notes like the screech of a lost Indian... We pitied him in his tight pants, though, and forgave him."

 

Of the ten pieces on the program, Ole Bull played on only four. His performance of "Siciliano Tarantella" was "masterly  above criticism, but the composition, like all others offered on the occasion, was  extremely trifling."  His other pieces were "Visions", his own composition, and variations on "Lily Dale", and the "Arkansas Traveler". The first reviewer was "left severely disappointed in the concert...Ole Bull was all we expected, and more too. Mr. Richter performed his part well, but the singers were below criticism." 

 

The second reviewer was more impressed. "Like the fabled person gifted with the power of endowing inanimate things with speech, so Ole Bull seems possessed of the faculty of making his instrument talk, if an utterance of the deepest and tenderest emotions of the soul can be called talking." 

 

On Monday the 18th, the ensemble was in Iowa City, Iowa,
about 220 miles west of Chicago.
The next morning, Tuesday March 19th, 1872,
Ole Bull's party had a small problem checking out of their hotel.

 

 

Sioux City IA Journal
20 March 1872

 

Iowa City, March 19. — This morning the Clinton house, the leading hotel of the city, caught fire and burned to the ground. All the rooms were occupied, and some of the occupants narrowly escaped. But little furniture was saved. Ole Bull's concert troupe were in the house, and Mr. Bull ran into the street in his night clothes, with his fiddle under his arm. Loss about $25,000; insurance $15,000.

 

 

After the Iowa City hotel fire, "Ole Bull gave a negro $50 for recovering his watch from the burning building, which was one-tenth the cost of the watch."  On Wednesday, he and his company performed in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, 30 miles north. Miss Orme and Mr. Chatterson had to apologize for their "scanty wardrobe, their store clothes having been singed by the Iowa City fire." Later that evening Ole played to a large crowd at Styer's Opera House in Decorah, Iowa, where there was a large Norwegian community. The next day, Thursday, he stayed over for a matinee and another evening concert, playing to full houses. The box office receipts were reported as $1,500. A reviewer said "I attended one of the concerts, and was delighted with the playing of the great master of the violin. Of the other members of the troupe I cannot speak very flatteringly."

 

Following his concerts in St. Paul and Minneapolis, Ole and his company returned to Chicago for concerts at the Union Park Congregational Church on April 18 & 19. The hotel fire in Iowa City generated a flurry of brief paragraphs in newspapers around the country, but by May it was stale news.

 

Ole and Sarah returned to Madison, and then later in the year they were back in Bergen. On his voyage back to Europe in April 1972, his ship narrowly missed running into rocks off the coast of Ireland.  However Ole returned to Chicago in March 1873 but would play there again until 1877, and then finally once more in May 1880.

 

 

 

Central Music Hall, Chicago (1879–1900)
Source: Wikipedia

His last farewell concert in Chicago was on May 16th, 1880, the day before Norway's Constitution Day, May 17th, Ole's favorite holiday. Around 2,500 people came to hear him at the new Central Music Hall, at the southeast corner of State and Randolph Streets. It was the first auditorium built after the Great Fire and was purposefully designed to have the best acoustics for music. Nearly every seat had an unobstructed view of the stage. There was enough space on the stage for a pipe organ, a choir of 175 singers, or an orchestra of 100 musicians. The building also had 3 times the number of fire exits required by the new fire codes.

 

For Ole Bull, who had first played Chicago in 1853, the transformation of the city's center from the old pre-war years, and then its resurrection from the ashes of the 1871 fire must have seemed a wonder of the new modern age. The concert received flattering reviews, though Ole only played two pieces. His final number was a duet with the soprano, Miss Emma Thursby – Gounod's "Ave Maria".

 

 

Central Music Hall, Chicago (1879–1900)
Source: Chicagology.com

 

Sadly there was more happening with Ole than what was reported in the newspapers. His health was failing rapidly, so he immediately left for New York with the intention to return to Norway. But of course, New York demanded a few concerts too, this time with real "farewell" tributes. After thanking his many American friends. Ole finally returned home to Bergen. By July, reports said he was seriously ill with cancer. 

 

On August 17, 1880, as his wife Sara played Mozart’s Requiem on the organ at their home in Lysøen, Ole Bull, the great Norwegian master of the violin, the Paganini of the North, passed away. He was 70 years old.

 

  

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

When I began researching my three small photographs of Ole Bull, I never expected that I would be writing an adventure story. Like polishing Aladdin's lamp, I was startled to discover that concealed inside these photos was a fantastic genie. My original purpose was to place Ole's photos within a simple historical context. But Ole, like Aladdin's djinn, had other ideas. 

In 1883, Sara Chapman Thorp Bull (1850–1911), published a biography about her husband entitled, Ole Bull, a Memoir. There are many anecdotes of his life, but she has nothing about the Farwell Hall fire in Chicago, or the Iowa City hotel fire, and only a brief mention about the collision of the two steamboats on the Ohio River. There's nothing at all about the Great Fire in Chicago, or of Ole's many concerts in the Windy City.

For me, living in the 21st century, Ole seems like a marathon runner who never stops. It is incredible that this amazing musician kept performing after being so close to death. His fateful encounters with fire were no casual mishaps. At various times his life was in perilous danger, not to mention the lives of his fellow musicians and sometimes even his wife and son. How does someone recover so quickly from a deadly calamity and go back on stage to perform? I think it was Ole's innate trust in the power of music to heal a soul that helped him do it.

 

And what about his instruments? Over his 50 year career, Ole Bull owned dozens of violins made by celebrated Italian makers like Amati, Gasparo da Salò, Guarneri, Stradivari and others. On most of his tours he probably traveled with at least two violins and several bows. After all, next to the flute, the violin is the most portable musical instrument. It's frightening to think how easily these prized violins might have been damaged or lost during their time with Ole. However during his early life in Paris, Ole studied violin making in the workshop of the famous French luthier, Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume (1798–1875). I think he viewed his violins as simple wooden machines which naturally always needed adjustment or repair. From his background with Vuillaume, I suspect Ole always carried with him a roll of luthier tools and supplies. If an instrument was damaged, he didn't worry because he was confident he could fix it or find another one.

 

It was also surprising to learn how much of American history that this Norwegian violinist observed firsthand. His travels in the United States covered two decades before and then after the Civil War. Both were periods of political turmoil, national expansion, modern innovation, and societal change. In the 1840s and 50s he saw how slavery, an evil injustice, was dividing America. Then in the 1860s and 70s, he witnessed a re-united nation struggling to define new freedoms and civil rights. This must have influenced his dedication to Norwegian freedom and its constitution.

Since few of the musicians in my photograph collection ever achieved any national notoriety, and most remain nameless, my research on Ole Bull has taken me on a different exploration of a musician's life than what I usually do. I have left out dozens of Ole's stories, like why he had diamonds mounted in his extra-long bow; or the time he played for the deaf Duke of Devonshire; or what happened when ruffians tried to steal his violins.

 

But there is one more story that I can't resist adding.
Now it is time for the coda.

 

 

 

 

Here is a video of music composed by Ole Bull.
His Et Saeterbesøg (A Mountain Vision).
is played by violinist Peter Sheppard Skærved
with pianist Roderick Chadwick.

The violin that you will hear
is one made by Nicolò Amati (1596 – 1684)
and once played by Ole Bull.
I believe it may be the same violin
pictured in his three photos.

 

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 There is nothing to see in the video
but I invite you to listen to it
while you read this next part
of Ole Bull's adventures.


It was 1876.
Ole Bull's next adventure
was somewhere more exotic.

 

 

The Sphinx and two Pyramids, circa 1870-99
Source: loc.gov

In September of 1875 Ole Bull paid a visit to the King and Queen of Norway & Sweden, Oscar II and Sophia of Nassau, at the Royal Drottningholm Palace in Stockholm. (From1814 to 1905, Norway and Sweden were in a union that shared a monarch.) Ole had just written a new piece for his violin and offered to play it for Queen Sophia. However she was recovering from a serious illness and her physician advised against it, as he prescribed rest and quiet. When King Oscar learned that Ole would soon embark on a European tour that included concerts in Egypt, the king suggested that he play his new music from atop the Great Pyramid of Cheops (Khufu).

 

Climbing the Great Pyramid, circa 1870-90
Source: loc.gov

 

The Suez canal opened in November 1869 and with the completion of this engineering marvel, Egypt, then a part of the Ottoman empire, became an important transit point between Europe and the Far East. Now more Europeans could visit Cairo to see the ancient Egyptian sites, and more tourists brought a demand for European entertainers. So it was not that unusual for the greatest Norwegian violinist to be booked for an engagement there. Sweden even had a consul stationed in Cairo.

 

So on the 4th of February 1876, Ole Bull arrived at the port of Alexandria, Egypt. After a six hour journey to Cairo he made arrangements to visit the famous pyramids. The next morning, Ole and his companions were taken to the site of the pyramids. He was the oldest of the group, but he refused assistance and climbed up the blocks of the Great Pyramid of Cheops by himself. However he did allow his two Egyptian guides to carry his violin and his bow. When they reached the top he took his violin from its case. The best description of what happened next is found in Music, a monthly magazine · vol. 21, December 1901.

 

THE LIFE OF OLE BULL
from the Danish of Johannes Haarklow
translated by Dr. W. H. Newman    (p 48-49)

"Bull took up his violin and sounded a couple of notes to see if it had come up without injury. Then he drew himself to his full height and looked around him for a few moments, enjoying the wonderful, indescribable view.
 

"To the right, the Nile, with its unending green fields as far as the eye could reach, the majestic stream, the waves gleaming like fluid silver. To the left, the likewise endless and unsearchable golden desert,t bounded by the silently uplifted Lybian mountains, and at their foot the city of the Khalifa with its minarets, cupolas, and palm gardens, all bathed in the velvet sunshine. When he suddenly began to play it was as a shout of thanks to the fate that had brought him to this height and to this wonderful picture.
 

"He turned to the North, the heaven of his earth, and began. That music cannot be described. In the clear, still air of that lofty spot, the highest of all the works of human hand, the tones of the violin sounded so soft and soothing, and then so powerful and penetrating, that one felt himself moved by a magic power and touched in his innermost soul. Now the soft voice of maiden song longing for her home hearth— now the triumphant hero, singing in pride of fatherland. As Uhland makes Strassberg's Munster tower tremble when the Goethe scratches his name thereon, so here also, to use a like figure, the six-thousand-year-old royal grave in the bowels of the pyramid must have echoed these master tones. And that nothing should be wanting to the poetry of this hour, two powerful pelicans rose from the Nile, and their wings gleaming like silver sheen, soared majestically away toward the North, as if to carry the tidings of the happy fulfillment of the expedition. The Bedouins, these children of nature, who, during the playing, had lain half hidden in a corner, apparently as unmovable as the stones themselves, sprang up when the artist had finished, and again and again cried: 'Allah! Allah!'— the highest expression of their admiration.
 

"On their arrival at Cairo, Bull sent the following telegram to the king: 'Obedient to my promise given at Drottningholm, I played to-day, my 66th birthday. 'Saeterjenten's Sondag' on the top of Cheops pyramid, to the honor of Norway and her beloved king.'
 

"The next forenoon came the royal answer: ' I thank you heartily for your telegram, and with the queen, rejoice in all your successes.' 

 

The music that Ole played, Saeterjenten's Sondag, is the slow movement within Et Saeterbesøg played on the video above.

The view from atop the Great Pyramid, circa 1920s
Source: RareHistoricalPhotos.com

All musicians strive to reach the mythical pinnacle of their craft.
Few actually achieve it as Ole Bull did on the top of the Great Pyramid.

 

I don't think it is an exaggeration to say Ole Bull was the most well-known entertainer of the mid-19th century.  I can't think of any musician of his time who traveled to as many places in Europe and North America, or sustained a concert career for as long as Ole Bull did over four decades. In the 1867–1872 period that my three photographs represent, Ole's name appeared nearly everyday in American newspapers. It was a level of celebrity that few musicians in his time attained. And in the decades to come, many more would attempt and fail to reach it. 

Ole Bull was clearly a gifted violinist, yet he was a uniquely self-taught performer of the early 19th century who achieved fame without the benefit of academic training. Like Paganini, his compositions were personal showpieces designed for his own performances, and they reflect the flamboyant virtuoso style of his time. Though Ole Bull played some works by Paganini and Mozart, I don't believe he ever played music by other composers like Beethoven or Mendelssohn, and likewise, I don't think any of the great composers of his era wrote music specifically for him. After his death in 1880, Ole's music with its theme & variation forms and sentimental melodies became old-fashioned as other composers like Brahms and Tchaikovsky pushed the Romantic violin repertoire to higher levels. The violin works of his virtuoso contemporaries like the Belgian, Henri Vieuxtemps, (1820–1881); the Hungarian, Joseph Joachim, (1831–1907) ; and the Spanish. Pablo de Sarasate, ( 1844–1908) have been similarly neglected. And as I have tried to show with some examples of his reviews, as Ole grew older, his concerts became less innovative and more formulaic. He was using his dependable showpieces rather than new programing to entertain his adoring public.

He was more than just a virtuoso violinist. Ole Bull was a consummate showman. His talent alone was not enough for him to succeed in the business of music. It required hard work and incredible determination. It also demanded a huge personal sacrifice. Had he stayed in Norway or Sweden, taken a position in the royal court orchestra and become a teacher in a music academy, he might have left a significant impact on the development of the violin repertoire and trained a long list of future solo violinists. But he chose a different path. One that took his violin to more places and greater heights than any of his contemporaries. Did Paganini ever play on top of a pyramid?

 

I think his greatest musical legacy was that he became an inspirational figure. This was the main reason people saved his photographs. They wanted a tangible object to remember the magical sound of Ole Bull's beautiful violin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My research on Ole Bull benefited from two very useful websites. The first is a website, OleBull2010.no produced in Norway to celebrate his 200th anniversary. It has a terrific biography of Ole Bull, written by Maria Tripodianos. It is in English and has many images and details on his life and music.

 

The other resource was a wonderful biography written in 1883 by Ole Bull's second wife, Sara Chapman Thorp Bull (1850–1911). It's entitled, Ole Bull, a Memoir, and is available as a PDF file or eBook.

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where people in the olden days
had their own problems
with masking and social distancing.