Author Biographies

(Note: Although I sometimes write in the first person and refer to Dr. Tompkins in the third, the following article is completely the result of the collaboration of the two writers. L.S.)

Mention the name of Marcel Tabuteau to any oboist from Philadelphia to Tokyo, or for that matter to almost anyone who is well informed about the outstanding musical personalities of the 20th century, and the image which immediately comes to mind is that of the consummate artist who, through his playing and teaching, created a new standard of excellence for the world of the woodwinds. So far reaching was his influence and so impressive his example, that the terms "the Tabuteau style" and "the American School of Oboe Playing" have come to be regarded as almost synonymous.

However, there is a part of the world where the name "Tabuteau" conjures up quite another picture. In North East Margaree, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, the Margaree Salmon Museum, sponsored by the Margaree Anglers' Association, is dedicated to the preservation of trout and salmon fishing in the Margaree

River. There, in the midst of a collection containing old-time fishing equipment, information about famous people who came to the area and stories of noted guides, one can see a photograph of Marcel Tabuteau wearing sportsman's gear, holding a fishing rod in one hand, and a very large salmon in the other. If the name Tabuteau is legendary in the music world, it is

Tabuteau the salmon fisherman who is still a subject of conversation in the Margaree Valley.

How is it that today, almost half a century after the summers that Marcel Tabuteau spent in Nova Scotia, this picture of someone more obsessed with fishing flies and tackle than with reeds and Loree oboes has emerged? A chance mention of Tabuteau's name on an Arts National program of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in 1989, jogged the memory of a doctor near Toronto, which in turn led to a series of letters exchanged between Florida, Hamilton, Ontario and Seattle, Washington. Before a closer look at these letters however, it might be helpful to fill in some background of the era in question.

In those now long-ago days of the 1940's when I studied with Marcel Tabuteau, he assigned his students to various tasks, apprentice-style, such as buying paper towels and other supplies for his studio, washing out and filling the glasses for soaking cane, occasionally sweeping the floor and preparing the cane for gouging; also, someone was always chosen to do the ritual Saturday morning shopping for a chicken, rib lamb chops and vegetables at the Reading Terminal Market.

About the time I came to Philadelphia in 1943, an article about Tabuteau had appeared in "Time" magazine. He was receiving a lot of "fan" mail and wanted to respond to it, but did not like to write letters, so he decided that I should do this for him. Every Sunday evening I would go to the Drake Hotel where the Tabuteaus lived, pick up the unanswered letters, a pile of Drake stationary, jot down the replies which he dictated, sometimes in detail, sometimes not, and then a few days later bring back the typed answers for him to approve and sign. During the next several years the Tabuteaus often referred to me as "la secretaire" and among the various letters I had to write, were the ones in preparation for the annual trip north to Nova Scotia for the salmon fishing. They would take the Cadillac which he kept stored in a Philadelphia garage during the winter, and drive for more than two days up through Maine, New Brunswick and then into Nova Scotia, going by ferry to Cape Breton from Mulgrave over to Port Hawkesbury. Later with the onset of gas rationing, they would sometimes leave a car in Canada.

Ever since Tabuteau first came to the United States in 1905, he had frequently gone back to France. During the years of World War 11, when it was impossible for him to return to his home near Toulon, his greatest summer pleasure became the quest for salmon in the river of the Margaree. I remember sending orders to suppliers in Wisconsin and Minnesota for special flies and hooks and also writing to some of the people with whom he had become acquainted in the Margaree Valley. The names that still come to mind are those of Joe Aucoin, Ralph and Claire Dieltgens, and most of all, Rose - Rose Tompkins. The name of "Rose" was always spoken with great fondness by both Monsieur and Madame Tabuteau. They apparently loved the tranquillity and quiet simplicity at Rose's farmhouse where they stayed.

For many years I did not think much more about Tabuteau's Nova Scotia summers, aside from referring to them briefly in the first article I wrote for the International Double Reed Society in 1974. Then in January 1990 1 received a letter from John de Lancie which included the following short paragraph, "I am also enclosing a letter from a Dr. Tompkins in Canada which is self-explanatory ... I just answered his letter and suggested he write you ... I have no snapshots or other items from Cheticamp but you may very well have some."

Dr. Tompkins had heard an interview on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation when John de Lancie was a member of a jury for a musical competition and had written to de Lancie as follows:

May 30, 1989

Dear Mr. de Lancie:

As I was peripherally listening to Arts National on May 29, 1989, 1 heard the name Marcel Tabuteau and immediately paid attention to the conversation between you and Mr. Terry Campbell.

Mr. Tabuteau spent the summers of 1943, 1944 and 1945 in the Margaree Valley of Cape Breton. He stayed with my aunt who ran a very informal guest house and mixed farming operation. I was her chore boy, but I felt more like a farm labourer.

I would be most interested to hear what has happened to Mr. Tabuteau. I would assume that he probably is dead now. I would also be interested if, among his memorabilia, there might be some references or photographs of his time in the Margaree Valley. If such memorabilia were extant, I would be most interested in obtaining a copy of these articles. I would be grateful for any help you could extend to me in this request. You could address your letter to the below address or feel free to call me collect at my home ... I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely,

Kevin J. Tompkins, M.D.

From Florida John de Lancie replied to Dr. Tompkins as follows:

12 January, 1990

Dear Dr. Tompkins:

Thank you for your letter of 30 May, '89 and I hope you will excuse the long delay in answering. As you probably gathered from the radio interview, I first met Marcel Tabuteau in 1936 when I entered the Curtis Institute of Music as one of his students. Consequently I heard much about Margaree Valley from Mr. Tabuteau and also Mme. Tabuteau.

Mr. Tabuteau retired from the Philadelphia Orchestra in January 1954 at which time he purchased a very large property on the Mediterranean very close to Toulon. It was spectacularly beautiful but much beyond his means to properly maintain, both physically and financially. After three or four years he sold it and rented an apartment in Nice and at the same time Mme. Tabuteau suffered a mild stroke.

You may not have known that he was a compulsive gambler and Mme. Tabuteau had refused to leave the States until he had put everything in her name. He finished his days in Nice doing a little teaching and never missing a day at the Casino. He died of a heart attack - the attack in the morning and he died in the late afternoon - on January 4, 1966.

I remember seeing snapshots of Cheticamp but unfortunately have none in my possession. There is, however, another one of his students who was very close to him and Mme. Tabuteau. Her name is Laila Storch and I rather imagine she would have some of these snapshots.

After his death, Mme. Tabuteau moved to Paris to be near her sister and very shortly suffered a second stroke. She was then put in a home - a very lovely place - in the suburbs of Paris where she died two or three years later. (October 31, 1973)

Again, please forgive the long delay in responding and I hope Miss Storch can supply you with more tangible memorabilia of his visits to Cape Breton.

Most sincerely,

John de Lancie

On January 16, 1990, Dr. Tompkins addressed the following letter to Laila Storch in Seattle, Washington, enclosing a copy of the information he had received from de Lancie.

Dear Miss Storch:

I heard John de Lancie being interviewed by Terry Campbell on C.B.C. in the summer where they mentioned Marcel Tabuteau who was, as you well know, Mr. de Lancie's teacher of music.

Mr. Tabuteau spent some summers in Margaree, Nova Scotia, where my aunt ran something resembling a tourist home. I was a very young boy, and since Mr. Tabuteau was on holiday, he was not inclined to teach me music, but he did teach me how to swim in the cold North Atlantic. Mr. Tabuteau was very nice to me, and I wonder if you might have any pictures or memorabilia relating to his time in Margaree that you could share with me. I will be happy to defray any costs incurred. I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely,

Kevin J. Tompkins, M.D.

In a letter dated February 11, 1990, Laila Storch replied to Dr. Tompkins.

Dear Dr. Tompkins:

Your letter of January 16 just arrived here a few days ago. My old friend and colleague John de Lancie had also written awhile ago mentioning your inquiry, so that I was very interested to hear from you.

I certainly do remember very well the years when the Tabuteaus were going up to Nova Scotia every summer. I was a student in Philadelphia from early 1943 until the summer of 1946, and then remained in close contact with the Tabuteaus after that until he died in January 1966 and she in October 1973. In fact, just last Fall I visited some of their only remaining relatives in France, a sister of Mme. Tabuteau who is now eighty-nine, and a nephew of Mr. Tabuteau who still lives in his hometown of Compiegne.

For many years I have been intending to write some type of article about Marcel Tabuteau (I once did a short one) and to that end, have saved all sorts of memorabilia. Unfortunately, there seems to be very little pertaining to Cheticamp. I just went through the whole drawer of photos and papers that I have, and I only found two small pictures of Mr. Tabuteau holding a salmon - no date, no buildings - I would have to assume they were taken in Nova Scotia, as I never heard that he went fishing anywhere else. Even those two pictures came to me in a small packet of things from Mme. Tabuteau's sister. The many pictures I do have, are mostly taken in Philadelphia or in France, as I visited them there many times.

We students used to act rather like apprentices when we studied with Mr. Tabuteau, and one of my jobs during that period in the 1940's was to write letters for him. I remember his planning for those fishing trips and I had to write about flies, etc. I believe Joe Aucoin was an important person in this regard and I certainly remember them speaking of Rose (who must have been your aunt.)

Also, I've found one or two letters that the Tabuteaus wrote from Margaree, including some multiple choice ones that I fixed up for them to send me, knowing that especially he, did not like to write letters. I'll xerox those for you, as it gives some idea of what was happening at that time toward the end of the war.

Do you want me to have copies made of those pictures with the salmon or would you like any other pictures of him? I am sorry that I don't have more to send you from those days. I certainly can tell you that I know the Tabuteaus always had a very warm feeling for Cape Breton. You may not have known that the one time he returned to the U.S. after his retirement in the summer of 1959, (he retired, as John de Lancie told you, in 1954), he and Mme. Tabuteau did go back up to Nova Scotia and I think they stayed at least two months. I believe they also bought some property there which was only sold long after they returned to France. The summers that he spent in Nova Scotia were probably the only ones in which he did not go to the Casinos! I guess the fight for the salmon completely replaced that compulsion, which Mr. de Lancie wrote to you about. It is true that in France he went every day, but I always remember him sounding so happy about the summers in Margaree - only being upset if some other fishermen got to the good spots before him. And then we used to have the treat of some of that special canned salmon from his own catch that he would bring back and fix with a special sauce that he made. He was a marvelous cook.

It was, of course, because of the war in Europe that the Tabuteaus did not go to France during those summers. Before the huge house that Mr. de L. wrote you about, they had a very modest one where they had always gone since the 1920's, and then he also visited his mother and sister in Compiegne north of Paris. I think now that I didn't realize how difficult those years were for him, and I believe his mother died just before he ever got to see her again. I don't know how they happened to decide to go to Nova Scotia, but it is perhaps even more credit to the environment there at that time, that they could be happy there, while no doubt having many worries about their families in France.

As you wondered what had happened to Mr. Tabuteau, I for my part, often wondered what happened to the people like Rose and Joe Aucoin who I heard them speak about so often. It has taken me back many years to think about that period. If I do come across anything else, I shall certainly put it aside.

Sincerely yours,

Laila Storch

I enclosed copies of the multiple choice letters addressed to "Lola" as the Tabuteaus could never manage to pronounce "Laila." Shortly afterward on March 5, 1990, Dr. Tompkins replied, referring in the opening paragraph of his letter to my idea of writing about Marcel Tabuteau, and wondering if we collaborated on a "Nova Scotia-Salmon article" would some journal have any interest in it? He then continued to relate his own early memories of life in the Margaree Valley and the Tabuteaus' visits:

My grandfather could neither read nor write. My grandmother had sixteen children; my father Greg was the youngest and Rose, my maiden aunt was the second youngest. Of poor Irish ancestry, these people worked diligently and created a relatively comfortable home site in the Margaree Valley. Pursuit of an education was secondary only to practice of their Roman Catholic religion. My father became a medical doctor and lived in the dirt poor industrial part of Cape Breton. As a respected physician, Dr. Greg was revered by most people in the valley to be almost omnipotent. He had two brothers, Mike and Nicholas, who were farmers. Mike lived in the next farm, part of the original holdings and separated only by the little brook that emptied into the Margaree River which practically ran by the front door of both farmhouses.

In the early 1930's, Aunt Rose opened a "tourist home" which catered to a summer school for landscape artists from New York. The two gentlemen teachers that I heard so much about but never met were a Mr. Cosobone and a Mr. Dumond (sp?). They would come with their students and spend the summer teaching and learning the art in idyllic surroundings. A little paint shed was built to accommodate their supplies.

Rose was running a mixed farm, tourist home, and post office in order to survive. Come the war years, the artists faded away and many of the local able-bodied men and potential farm help went to war. In 1942 or 1943 when I was ten or eleven, I was drafted by my father to leave school a month early and to spend my summers helping Aunt Rose with the farm chores. In the winters, she "boarded" the school teacher in exchange for his help with morning and evening chores.

I am not sure when Mr. T. first came to stay with Aunt Rose. It was my understanding that earlier in the season, he fished the Cheticamp River which borders the south border of Cape Breton's Highlands National Park which, to this day, is a wonderful place for hiking and photography. They even yet catch a few salmon there.

One of the other "guests" and fly fishermen that I remember staying with Aunt Rose was Mr. Bryant Baker, who sculptured The Pioneer Woman. To date, I am unable to find out where The Pioneer Woman stands, but I still keep looking. Mr. Baker, like Mr. T. was a very aggressive, competitive fisherman. Most of these men gradually began to feel that they owned the river and they resented anyone intruding on their reserve. Stories of disagreements almost resulting in fisticuffs were often told.

I must relate that I was in Kenya for two weeks this February for a medical convention cum safari. Ironically, my brother Greg, seven years my senior, attended the same meeting so we had a lot of time to reminisce. I mentioned Mr. T. and he told me a couple of stories.

Greg, at the time a medical student, was invited by Mr. T. to go out fishing early one morning. As they left Aunt Rose's house before sun-up, Greg let the front door screen slam, much to Mr. T.'s annoyance. "Sh-h-h, you'll wake up Mike." The admonition was vacuous for as they proceeded along the brookside path to the river, whom should they meet on his way home with a salmon in each hand? You guessed it, Uncle Mike.

When I related John de Lancie's story about gambling, Greg's eyes lit up. He recalled how he and a chum spent part of one summer painting Aunt Rose's house. "Don't you remember the night we were playing poker in the cabin with Patrick (Mike's son) and for one hand Mr. T. put up the keys to his Cadillac?" I don't know what he was holding, but you can be assured that all his opponents folded.

I was the boy who cleaned any salmon that were caught. Mr. T. did almost all of his own cooking in Rose's kitchen. I recall him happily fussing around with his cigarette holder in his mouth. He reminded me of a younger F.D.R. I seem to remember that veal was one of his favorite meals. He would take out his pocket knife, skewer the meat in many places and stuff in slit cloves of garlic.

Mr. T. was always most kind to me without being patronizing. Mrs. T. could not be otherwise. I think that I told you that he taught me how to swim. They usually went for a swim at the time evening chores were to be done, so he was not too popular with Aunt Rose when he took me away and she was left to milk my two cows in addition to her two cows. Again of Irish ancestry, alone and spending most of her life with her back to the wall, she was much less understanding of the needs of a twelve year old boy than were the Tabuteaus. Mr. T. would pick up beer bottles along the river, and when he had collected sufficient numbers, he would sell them and turn the proceeds over to me. Incidentally, one of the ploys my father used to get me to spend my summers in servile service was to get Rose to buy a hundred chickens. "We" would look after them, and when she sold them in the autumn after I returned to school, the profits would be split 50/50. Like Mr. T., Rose and my Dad held all the high cards, for near Christmas when my father presented me with a cheque for $37.50 from Aunt Rose for my share of the profits, he suggested that it would be a nice gesture if I returned the money to Aunt Rose because she needed to buy a refrigerator. The old ice house was falling down, so what choice did I have.

The Tabuteaus purchased a property overlooking Whale Cove with the intention of building a home there. I have an aerial photograph (slide) of the area but I doubt it would interest you as it is simply a picture of some spruce trees, a green field, and the sea.

I was amused by your multiple choice letters. It appears to me that you have a good sense of humor. Thank you for sending me a copy. There was little or no music in Margaree. We did have a large radio and the C.B.C. News Reports by Matthew Halton of the progress of the war were our only interest. Mr. T. would sometimes walk around humming "Bonb, Bonb, Bonb," but I did not hear him play his oboe more than a couple of times, and then only for a minute or two.

The house had one bathroom and the Tabuteaus spent a lot of time in their room; perhaps two rooms-I am not sure. They were rather like prisoners once the sun went down. Despite the arrangement that he do their cooking, they intruded minimally on the lives of others in the house.

Aunt Rose died in 1964, and later the house was demolished. Any semblance of mixed farming in which she engaged is lost. The countryside is still beautiful, but alas, the river no longer teems with salmon as it did in the 20's and 30's. Thirty salmon by August 15 was a pretty respectable count in 1945. Perhaps another attraction for the Tabuteaus was the fact that besides the Irish and Scottish cultures, the area was also settled by the French who were expelled from Acadia by
the British in 1759. Their patois might well have been very foreign to the Tabuteaus, but no doubt they felt some kinship with these locals.

In closing his account, Dr. Tompkins thanked me for sharing my memories and again expressed the hope that we might consider doing some type of story about Mr. Tabuteau. The following two multiple choice letters which he referred to, had been dutifully completed and returned to me by the Tabuteaus in the summers of 1944 and 1945. They crossed out some words and filled in the blanks with the phrases in italics.

Nova Scotia, Canada
June, July or August 1944

July 20, 1944

Dear Lola:

This is to let you know that we are having a fine vacation here. The weather is (cool, hot, perfect) and the fishing is (fair, good, marvelous. ) So far I've caught 20 salmons the largest weighing 20 pounds. You'll be glad to know that I found the car, the Dieltgens, and Joe Aucoin all (in topnotch condition, happy, ready for action.)

There is (plenty, not enough, too much good Scotch, and I am not letting any go to waste. The best thing we've had to eat so far this summer was what I am cooking, I get up about .6 A.M. and fish until noon and have (completely, almost) forgotten there is such a curse in existence as an oboe.

Madame Tabuteau is (bored, playing solitaire, - she did it once! eating candy.) She is having a good rest, but wishes that you were here to (wash her blouses, answer the mail, clean the fish) and have a good time.

Be good, don't get careless, and keep practicing at least (one, two, three, four) hours a day. Write to us (soon, seldom, whenever you have time to answer it yourself)

Best wishes

(sign here)

Marcel Tabuteau
Louise Andre Tabuteau

Very occasionally Tabuteau wrote a few lines himself, so that in a letter dated June 24, 1945, from the Acadian Inn in Cheticamp, it is clear that he went first to this area of Cape

Breton for the fishing before proceeding on to the Margaree Valley.

Dear Lola,

Received your card and letter; I am glad to know you enjoyed your trip, also, you are happy to be home again in beautiful California. At Cheticamp the first few days had wonderful weather and exciting fishing but - since, too much rain and poor luck; nevertheless I am very satisfied, no music or musicians around! In a few days will leave for Margaree.

For the rest of this letter he left a blank page "to be filled by secretary's imagination" and then later in the summer sent the "fill-in."

August 15,1945

Dear Lola:

We are having a wonderful time here at Margaree. The main news of course, concerns le saumon. So far the score on this year's catch is 30 and the weight of the largest 20 pounds. We (are) (are not) going to have some canned. Compared with other seasons, the fishing is poor this year. The condition of flies, rods, lines and all other paraphernalia de pêche, is (satisfactory) (could be better). Joe Aucoin and Ralph Dieltgens are (still on the warpath) (have become bosom friends). The other fishermen around here are (a nuisance) (not causing any trouble) (finding difficulty challenging my title Champion of the Margaree.)

The food and liquor situation is (good) (bad) (fair). We have (plenty) (not enough) meat, mostly (lamb) (beef) (chicken) (hamburger) (elk) lobster. Miss Tompkins still has her (dog) (chickens) (vegetable garden) (fruit trees) and bakes (cakes) (cookies) (pies.)

We spend a lot of time (reading) (swimming) (loafing) (eating) (drinking) (writing letters) (listening to summer symphony concerts via T.S.F) We have (newspapers) (radio) and think the news is generally bad. We hear (Walter Winchell) (Raymond Gram Swing) (Gabriel Heater) (Drew Pearson) (Frank Sinatra) (The Crime Doctor).

There has been (some) (a lot) (no) mail from France. Any special news: War prisoner nephew back home Compiègne. As things look now, we will see the "grapps and peches trees" about 1946.

During the coming winter I will probably tell the following to go to - - - .: (Ormandy) (Curtis) (PSFS) (Hilsberg) (the oboe) (pupils) (the world.)

Now we will have to close this letter, because our secretary is getting too lazy to write anymore.

Don't forget to take it easy, and practice like #-*%$

With best wishes,

Marcel Tabuteau

(PSFS was the Philadelphia Savings Fund Society which sponsored a series of Curtis Institute orchestra concerts conducted by Tabuteau.)

The war news naturally assumed great importance at that time. Fifty years later, the secretary of the Margaree Salmon Museum, Ralph Watts, asked a passenger on the ferry to Sydney, Nova Scotia, if she remembered Tabuteau and she recounted the following incident: "At the local corner store owned by Jake Sode, there was a radio. (This was early in the war and a number of the local residents were listening to the war news.) Tabuteau came in and said 'Hello - what's new, etc.' No answer from the locals who were so intent on the war news - His remark was, 'Can't any of you talk?' and he walked out." This left quite an impression. Considering Tabuteau's heavy French accent and the fact that the store owner was Lebanese, there was no doubt ample room for misunderstanding!

Dr. Tompkins remembered more details of the Tabuteau's life at the home of his Aunt Rose:

Mme. T. like to sit on the lounge in the kitchen by the woodburning stove and watch and listen to Aunt Rose. She was never intrusive. I think that I said that Mr. T. did most of the cooking. He loved to cook veal perhaps because the local beef was probably so tough. He would sear it on top of the stove and then plop it in the oven till done. Until then I had heard of garlic but had never seen it. He would stab the veal in a half dozen places and bury the garlic in the meat. His pocket knife served the purpose and after use he would ceremoniously wipe the knife with a thumb and forefinger, close the knife and drop it back into his pocket. I remember one autumn Sunday when my mother and father were away and we had our usual prime rib roast. I insisted on lacing it with garlic A la Tabuteau. My brothers and sisters after a lifetime of bland food would not touch their main course. Mr. T. was never a big name in our house!

Dr. Tompkins asked his brother Greg, if the rumors that there had been fist fights among the fishermen, including Tabuteau, were true. Greg confirmed that they were a very competitive and aggressive lot, jealously guarding their "rights" to different pools and streams and that arguments often led to blows. Dr. Tompkins thinks that his father, "Dr. Greg, also an avid fisherman, with a quirky Celtic heritage, did not have much use for Mr. T., but that he did not have use for a lot of people." Loved and respected nevertheless, by a given number of the local inhabitants for his straightforward manner, he did not hesitate to come to the aid of a fellow fisherman, when one day Mr. Tabuteau found himself in an urgent situation with an incarcerated hernia. Dr. Greg successfully treated Tabuteau for this problem, enabling him to wait until his return to Philadelphia for surgical repair. Dr. Tompkins observed that Tabuteau "could make enemies with his competition, but be very easy going and friendly with almost any other group of people; Aunt Roses, medical students, fishing guides and little boys for whom he collected and sold beer bottles." These benign aspects of Tabuteau's personality were perhaps more evident during his relaxing summer life than in the winter when he was constantly engaged in a battle against reeds, students and conductors.

Apparently the lure of the Nova Scotia salmon did not completely suppress Tabuteau's desire to gamble. In this rural setting, a far cry from the Casinos of the South of France, poker games took place, sometimes involving three first cousins, all of them nephews of Aunt Rose. No one had any money. Some were struggling university students who Tabuteau would occasionally stake to a few dollars in order to keep the game going. Once one of Rose's tourist cabins was rented out to a couple on their honeymoon. The new groom got into the game and it soon became clear that he was a pretty good player and the "locals" were down on their luck. They were playing a game called "Chicago" which was supposed to be penny ante, but it got out of hand and went on for several nights. On the third night, after all had scraped up enough money to continue, the new groom was still winning and even though he naturally wanted to bow out when 11:00 p.m. rolled around, Tabuteau persuaded the big winner that since the poor country folk were down, he was obliged to continue. About 5:00 o'clock the next morning everyone was about even and the game broke up.

It is not sure exactly when or how Tabuteau first decided to go to Cape Breton, but John Minsker who began to play English Horn with the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1936 and knew Tabuteau very well, thinks he must have already spent the summer of 1940 in Canada. Minsker remembers that during one of the Bethlehem Bach Festivals shortly after the beginning of the war, Tabuteau was talking about the flame-throwers and realized that he could not go back to France.

Following the end of the war, in the summer of 1946 Madame Tabuteau returned to France for the first time to see relatives, friends and property. The comfortable transatlantic steamship service to which they were accustomed, had not yet been restored and so she courageously flew over in a "Constellation." Tabuteau never wanted to fly and so he again went to Cape Breton for the fishing, this time alone. It must have seemed rather boring to him, as toward the end of July he wrote, even without benefit of the "fill-ins", what was for him, quite a long letter, full of complaints and admonitions.

July 29, 1946

Dear Lola,

For the last three weeks have been suffering of a severe crisis of gout. Received from the Drake my mail some of which I will have to send to you to be taken care of.

No rain. The fishing is still very poor.

How about sending me a couple of nice books; I enjoyed "The Last Time I saw Paris."

The weather here is superb, like the French Riviera in the Spring, but alone, find the Cape and all the attractions rather boring. Hope you received the English Horn; now, be careful, good instruments are rare and do not let anybody talk you out of one to keep it on exchange of another one. Confidential you understand! Wait for me to decide.

Do not speak to anyone about Graf. If you go to see him give him my regards and remind him about what I expect to have ready next September.

Hope the hellish weather of Phila. is not too much for you. It must be terrible in the Studio! The idea to go back to work gives me nausea.'!

Madame Tabuteau was rather upset about conditions in Paris. She is now South and appears to be more optimistic. Was advised not to go this summer, but she expects to stay abroad until September.

Cordially,

Marcel Tabuteau

In late May, 1947, the Tabuteaus sailed to France on the "Queen Elizabeth," but must have found conditions still so depressing, that in 1948, they again spent the summer in the Margaree Valley. One must remember that even as late as three and four years after the end of World War 11, there was still no white bread in France, (for that culture, considered a major hardship!), good food in general was scarce, bridges remained bombed out, gasoline was rationed, and life was only gradually returning to normal.

At the end of the Philadelphia Orchestra tour to England in 1949, (the first visit of a major U.S. orchestra to Europe after the war), the Tabuteaus continued on to France. Then beginning with his participation in the Casals Festivals at Prades in 1950, Perpignan in 1951 and Saint-Michel de Cuxa in 1953, he returned to France every summer. He had also bought the beautiful, but war-ransacked twenty-five room villa overlooking the Mediterranean not far from the fishing village of Le Brusc. It required several years of work and much money to restore and furnish this magnificent home. Finally, with his retirement from the Philadelphia Orchestra early in 1954, he went to live permanently in the South of France.

After an absence of eleven years, the Tabuteaus returned once more to Nova Scotia. An entry in Rose Tompkins' register for June 12, 1959, proves that the first thing they did on arrival was to visit her. That summer they rented a house from Charles MacDonald at Margaree Forks, and stayed for over two months. At the end of the season, however, Tabuteau expressed a certain measure of disappointment with his return visit to the United States and Canada. His former colleagues in Philadelphia were all pursuing their busy lives and the idyllic Cape Breton days of the 1940's proved difficult to recapture.

Over thirty years later in August of 1991, my closest neighbors in Seattle, Mary and Monty Smith, went to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, for a vacation. I told them about Tabuteau's fishing trips and before long, a postcard arrived, again confirming the lasting impression left by Tabuteau in that part of the world, so far removed from the realm of his musical activities.

Mary write, "Our hosts at Margaree Harbor were familiar with the name of your oboe teacher, Laila. I gather he was known and liked throughout the Margaree Valley, (Very good with children, they said.) They gave me the names and addresses of two fellows who would know a lot about his doings there - maybe even knew him personally."

One of these "fellows", Nicholas A. Miller, turned out to be another of Rose Tompkins' nephews, son of Rose's sister Rebecca. His cordial reply to my inquiries provided definite answers concerning the property the Tabuteaus had purchased near Margaree Harbour and what became of it. From on old register kept by his Aunt Rose, he was also able to confirm some of the exact dates that the Tabuteaus were in the area.

The other contact was Alexander MacKay of Margaree Harbour. His wife, Rose Tompkins MacKay, a grand-niece of "Aunt Rose" replied with interesting stories and photographs, even putting an arrow on one to mark the former Tabuteau property. It would appear that the Tabuteaus' land, bought from Alexander MacKay's father, Howard, ran from the ocean to the foot of the mountain. Tabuteau eventually left it to a friend he met while fishing on the Margaree River, Ralph Dieltgens, from New Waterford, Cape Breton, whose name was one of those I had remembered. Just in the past year, Alexander MacKay's son, Gordon, bought half of the land and built a house there.

Mrs. Rose MacKay (who is also a second cousin of Dr. Tompkins), wrote about her reminiscences of the Tabuteaus:

My brother and I lived with my grand-aunt, Rose Tompkins, I would believe in 1943, as my mother was ill and she died in '44. 1 can remember Mr. and Mrs. Tabuteau and the one thing that stands out in my mind is going to the beach with them. The beach I refer to would be about eight miles from Rose Tompkins house. I can remember a storm came up with thunder, lightning and hail and Mr. Tabuteau was in swimming when the storm was on. 0 can still remember his laugh.) We went up to the house just above the beach which was Howard MacKay's home where I live today. So the first time I was ever in this house was with Mr. and Mrs. Tabuteau. I would have been four years old then. I have been living in this house thirtythree years as I married Howard's son, Alexander.

Mr. and Mrs. Tabuteau were good friends of my husband's parents. The beach which I referred to is a private beach owned by us now. The Tabuteaus used this beach frequently and I believe this is how they became good friends with my husband's parents. My husband can remember Mr. Tabuteau buying a lamb and then he would cook the whole lamb in this house and on different occasions inviting the Dieltgens for the meal.

In April 1992, the Margaree Anglers' Association's Ralph Watts, sent information about Mayme Dieltgens, the widow of Ralph Dieltgens. A telephone call follow-up found Mayme still clearly remembering the days when Tabuteau and her husband fished the Margaree River. Although not sure exactly how Ralph met Tabuteau, she believes it was just while they were fishing the streams. However, they soon became very good friends. Ralph spoke both English and French, and they exchanged funny stories and information about little-known pools and good spots to fish. Tabuteau was respected as a "serious" fisherman, and was accepted as one of the people of the Valley. They did not realize until many years later the extent of his fame as a musician, even though he had presented Ralph with a copy of the 78 R.P.M. recording of the Mozart "Sinfonia Concertante" he had made with the Philadelphia Orchestra under Leopold Stokowski in 1940. When Ralph married in 1945, Tabuteau was his best man, and Ralph's sister, Claire, was the matron of honor. After the ceremony, Tabuteau arranged a festive champagne supper for the newly-weds.

Ralph and Mayme's daughter Linda, described the property which the Tabuteaus had purchased near Margaree Harbour. It was fifty acres of deeply wooded land with a beautiful stretch of waterfront and reached up into the hills above Whale Cove, an area formerly known as "St. Rose". It was left to Ralph, who the Tabuteaus felt would appreciate it to the fullest. Mr. Watts was also able to provide information about Joe Aucoin. He was a famous fly tier and some of his original flies are in the Salmon Museum. Dr. Tompkins reached Aucoin's daughter by telephone and learned that he had passed away in 1968 at the age of fifty-five. As well as fishing, he had to work in the coal mines near New Waterford and suffered some injuries in that dangerous occupation, which may have contributed to his early death.

We may wonder what in Cape Breton (aside from the salmon and the friendly straightforward people) was so attractive to the Tabuteaus, that they returned again and again, even after the war
was over.

In contrast to Tabuteau's long-preferred Midi of France with its dazzling sunshine and intense colors, Cape Breton is a land of cool, green rolling hills lying between the cold Atlantic and the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Laced by quickly flowing streams, and in the 1940's, aside from one or two industrial towns in its southern half, not yet "discovered" by tourism, the inhabited spots were little more than small villages. Margaree Harbour, Margaree Forks, Fordview, all lay on the Margaree River, not more than a few miles apart. Cheticamp, only twentythree miles to the north, was originally settled by Frenchspeaking people, who were largely engaged in commercial fishing. The Atlantic salmon, totally different than the Pacific salmon, do not die after spawning, but live to return to the sea. The lure of the salmon was that as they entered the river from the very cold sea to spawn, they were very frisky and provided the fisherman with a challenge.

Those of us who remember Tabuteau personally know that his was not a calm or peaceful temperament. He searched compulsively for the ideal reed, the largest salmon, the winning hand. Despite the turbulence of the world situation at that time, it seems the Nova Scotia summers brought Tabuteau as great a degree of happiness and contentment as he would ever know. The strength of his personality, even minus the oboe, impressed itself on children and adults alike to a such a degree, that after these many years, he is still warmly remembered in Cape Breton.

PostScript

Several weeks after concluding this article, I received a packet from Ralph Dieltgens' daughters, Carol and Linda, and his wife, Mayme. It included copies of letters that Tabuteau had written to Ralph from 1947 to 1964, as well as a number of photographs. The letters not only confirm the feelings Tabuteau had for the Margaree and its people, but bring to light several new details.

For years after Tabuteau returned to France, he continued to correspond with Ralph about salmon fishing, a subject on which they obviously shared the most serious thoughts.

A few excerpts from these letters will tell the story in Tabuteau's own words. After his one trip back to Cape Breton in 1959, Tabuteau wrote the following:

Cunard Line

R.M.S. "Queen Elizabeth"

On board Saturday Nov. 7th '59

My dear Ralph,

Many thanks for your good letter which reached me just before sailing back to France.

I was not surprised to hear about fishing being poor to the end of the season, but the unsuccessful scores were not altogether the Margaree's fault. Many times I have seen salmons at the Seal Pool, none caught, and I can assure you it was 100% the fishermen faults. They were walking in the river with their famous waders deep to their neck with the salmons between them and the beach resting in two feet of water!

In April of 1960 Tabuteau wrote from Nice to thank Ralph for a copy of the "Atlantic Salmon Journal." He mentioned how much he would love to go fishing with Ralph in Spain and that he had even made inquiries about fishing in Norway, but that "nothing there like the old Margaree."

In another letter about a year later, Tabuteau continues to think about Cape Breton.

Nice, le 24 May '61

111 Promenade des Anglais

My dear Ralph,

It was good to receive news from all of you and the wonderful Margaree.

Unfortunately for me, I don't think I will make the trip this summer. I realize (to console myself) the fishing there will never be like during the war when the salmons came to the Margaree in great numbers and fishermen were few.

Nevertheless, I know the beautiful country is there with the lovely people, not like here where I feel like being in the jungle with ugly wild beasts around ...

Don't fail to write to me about you, the Margaree and ... the fishing. Nos affectueuses pensees a toute la famille, de notre part caresses aux enfants et souvenirs aux vieux amis.

Bien cordialement,

Marcel

In the winter of 1963 there is a flurry of correspondence with Ralph, beginning with a letter dated November 5 in which Tabuteau announces, "Now the chances are that we could have again a few good days at the xMargaree next summer. A group of talented young artists invited me to coach them for six weeks, so, I selected Cape Breton, the Margaree, with all my old friends as my headquarters to work with them. You probably have heard from Arthur Grossman, as I told him to get in touch with you to find for the group and myself first class accommodations, private bungalows; of course keep the best for me and Mrs. Tabuteau. Will be quite busy with the group from the middle of July until the end of August. Please for me rent from the 20th of June to the 20th of Sept (3 months). We are looking forward to the pleasure to see you all next summer and to the good time we will have together ... fine fishing or ... not."

The "talented young artists" referred to in this letter were the members of the Soni Ventorum Wind Quintet, at that time Felix Skowronek, William McColl, James Caldwell, Robert Bonnevie and Arthur Grossman, resident at the Conservatorio de Musica de Puerto Rico.

Tabuteau was clearly anticipating the pleasure of seeing his old friends and going salmon fishing, combined with working again with young woodwind players. Unfortunately, due to some scheduling problems the plan failed to materialize, and a year later at Christmas 1964, in mixed French and English, Tabuteau sent one of his last messages to Nova Scotia.

Noël 1964 - Nice

To old friend, Ralph, Mayme and the lively charming daughters! Nos meilleurs voeux avec nos affectueuses pensees

Marcel

If you have time please let me know about the Margaree salmon fishing in the Summer 1964. C'est toujours bon de penser A vous tous and the

wonderful time we had together.

These letters written during the final years of Tabuteau's life, show that Cape Breton, the Margaree and all it stood for, continued for him as an ongoing dream of happy earlier days.

Author Biographies

Laila Storch studied with Marcel Tabuteau at the Curtis Institute of Music from 1943-1946. She was solo oboist in the Houston Symphony Orchestra from 1948-1955. From 1950 through 1953 she took part in the Casals Festivals in Prades and Perpignan, and has participated in music festivals in Bethlehem, Barcelona, Salzburg, Marlboro and San Juan. She was the oboist of the Soni Ventorum Wind Quintet for 26 years and is now Professor Emeritus at the School of Music, University of Washington, Seattle.

Kevin J. Tompkins graduated from Dalhousie University, Halifax, Nova Scotia, where he received his M.D. degree in 1958. From 1960-1963 he did post-graduate work in Obstetrics and Gynaecology in Oxford, England. He has been in private practice in Hamilton, Ontario since 1963. From 1982-1987 he was Associate Professor of Obstetrics and Gyneacology at McMaster University Medical Centre in Hamilton.

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