A Biographical Essay by Racheli Galay[1]
This biography is accompanied by the playlist Joachim Stutschewsky: Selected Recordings.
Throughout his many decades as a composer, arranger, researcher, concertizing cellist and pedagogue, Joachim Stutschewsky (1891–1982) tried to reconcile his professional identity as a classical musician with his background as the son of a klezmer from the shtetl. Whereas dozens of better-known European Jewish virtuosos from the first half of the twentieth century adjusted to the life styles of cosmopolitan artists, Stutschewsky’s career more closely followed those of a few kindred spirits who actively promoted a new style of art-music steeped in authentic ethnic sources. Following in the steps of the members of the Saint Petersburg Society for Jewish Folk Music, Stutschewsky collected and researched folksongs and Hassidic tunes, praising them in their own right and using them in the creation of new vocal and instrumental works. The broad strokes of Stutschewsky’s journey can be seen as a microcosm of the twentieth-century fate of many Jewish artists: born in Romny, Ukraine, raised in circles of the Russian Jewish intelligentsia, trained in the major capitals of Central Europe, an emigrant to Palestine, and finally active as an Israeli musician.

Joachim Stutschewsky, Zürich, c. 1920. The National Library of Israel, Department of Music.
Early Years: Ukraine, Germany and Switzerland, 1891–1924
Stutchewsky was born on 7 February 1891 in Romny, Ukraine, to a three-generation family of klezmers from both parents’ sides. As a young boy he played the drum in his father’s bands throughout the Ukraine, which was the epicenter of shtetl culture. Typical of the klezmers’ lot, his family was in constant search for engagements. His father Kalman-Leib Stutschewsky, a clarinettist, had to move numerous times with his wife,[2] sons and brother (Daniel, a bass-player) from Romny to Nikopol, Kachovka, Beryslav and finally to the major city of Cherson. Cherson was large enough to boast a theatre orchestra, where a cello vacancy inspired the eleven-year-old to pursue the life of a professional musician as an escape from the daily grind as a delivery boy. The town also boasted one cello-teacher and the inevitable town drunk; unfortunately, in Cherson those two people were one and the same. Stutschewsky nevertheless managed to join the local orchestra within seven months of teaching himself how to play.
The following year he won an audition to become principal cellist of the Nikolaiev summer orchestra, whereupon he gained an increasing reputation as a gifted young professional cellist and received lessons from better instructors. At seventeen he met the Jewish-Ukrainian violinist Alexander Schaichet (1887–1964) who became a friend and colleague for life. On Schaichet’s suggestion, Stutschewsky applied and gained entry to the studio of the renowned cellist Julius Klengel at the Leipzig Conservatory, who also counted among his students Emanuel Feuermann and Gregor Piatigorsky. He graduated with honors in the spring of 1912, equipped with a letter of recommendation from Klengel who recognized Stutschewsky as ‘a cellist of excellent skills, who will honor any orchestra both as principal cellist, and as brilliant soloist’.[3]

Joachim Stutschewsky and Alexander Schaichet, Zürich, 1915. The National Library of Israel, Department of Music.
But a soloist’s lifestyle centered mainly on practicing the cello seemed meaningless to the young graduate, who was distressed by ‘the gap between politics and the arts, and between the sorrow of the world and cello-playing’.[4] But he put aside these lofty concerns for the moment: his immediate goal was to avoid the Russian army draft by finding work in the film-theatres and cafés of Kherson, Yekaterinburg and Paris before settling in Jena, south-west of Leipzig.[5] Schaichet, who graduated from the Leipzig Conservatory a year earlier than Stutschewsky, invited him to join the Jena String Quartet. Jena was a small university city, and its population created a stimulating atmosphere for music-making.
During this period (1912–14) Stutschewsky was acquainted with the charismatic and celebrated pianist-composer Max Reger (1873–1916). Stutschewsky had a recital scheduled with Reger, but the outbreak of World War I meant that those plans never materialized. Stutschewsky and Schaichet were forced to remain in Switzerland (during an interrupted vacation in Lungern) and did not return to Jena; as Russians, they were citizens of an enemy country and could not return to Germany. Consequently, they decided to settle in Zürich where, despite all previous professional accomplishments, they had to build their lives from scratch.
Zürich – a hotbed of intellectual fervor during the First World War[6] – reawakened Stutschewsky’s identity crisis, which in turn marked the beginning of his path as a composer. Emerging as a socially conscious artist and citizen of the world, he immersed himself in the rigorous debates of fellow Russian refugee intellectuals and Zionist students. Although he thought of himself as a cosmopolitan, modern Jew, Stutschewsky became increasingly conflicted over what that meant:
The duality between an artist and a politician; the individual and the people; the belief and the knowledge; the learning and the action – all these dualities struggled within me without any success in trying to compromise and bring to agreement between themselves [….] I have finally found my way, my goal of life as a Jew and a musician; I have embarked on the thorny path of a Jewish musician.[7]
---- a new fire propelled within me, a fruit of the soul’s flow from generations: I mean Jewish music. Slowly this idea emerged, grew and matured until it became a passion of the soul. Here was also hidden the seed of my creative impulse, which started showing up only at this moment.[8]
He had already tested his abilities as a composer with arrangements of classical violin and cello duets, in collaboration with Schaichet.[9] He recognized, though, that to write original compositions would require a more sophisticated methodology than simply recalling melodies from his youth:
In a spontaneous way I realised the need, an impulse for our own art music. […] But first thing first, I had to research the new field, to know what’s in it, and to be well acquainted with the treasures of our folksongs. I invested myself in the research of our songs and nigunim (tunes). I wanted to organize evenings of Jewish folksongs.[10]
Perhaps the best marker of this period in Stutschewsky’s life is the compilation for cello and piano Bearbeitungen für Violoncell und Klavier (Arrangements for Violoncello and Piano), published in 1923 by Hug Brothers & Co. It included six transcriptions for cello and piano of Baroque and Classical works, side by side with his own arrangement to the melody of the Hebrew/Yiddish song Èli, Èli lama asawathanu? [sic] (God, why have you forsaken us) and an original piece M’chol Kedem – Danse Orientale. This would testify to the co-habitation of Jewish and Classical repertories in the cellist-composer’s view.

Cover page of Joachim Stutschewsky: Bearbeitungen für Violoncell und Klavier (Arrangements for Violoncello and Piano), Hug Brothers & Co., Zürich and Leipzig, 1923. The National Library of Israel, Department of Music.


