If there is any one thing that is true about classical music, classical musicians, and their fans the world over it is this: we love our traditions. It makes sense, of course–this is an art form that is dedicated in a large part to preserving traditions and building a rich lineage, connecting old to new. Nearly every part of our world touches the idea of tradition in some way, from compositional forms to ensemble types to playing techniques to concert etiquette. In an era in which classical music is subjecting itself to keen scrutiny in order to stay afloat, this connection to tradition is often under fire–or at least under the microscope. Classical tradition is disguising itself and evolving in an array of different ways, but one tradition has stayed with us for centuries–and it is perhaps the noblest, most vital tradition that we have: the tradition of patronage.
Classical music as we know it would likely never have gotten off of the ground without the generosity of a privileged class of patrons. Early in the lifespan of Western art music, which we have now come to call classical music, there was really no such thing as a public concert. Concerts were largely performed for courts and for persons of the nobility; Haydn was a famously “kept” composer at the court of Esterhazy, and one would be hard-pressed to name a composer or musician from any time but our modern world that did not have a connection to a patron. Indeed, patrons of the arts and of classical music are the lifeblood of the classical music community as it exists today. No symphony would be able to perform at a high level–or perhaps at all–if it were operating on only the revenue reaped from ticket sales. Much of the operating budget of any given classical organization is supplied by generous patrons and donors, and the tradition of patronage hardly stops with symphonies. The relationship between individual players and interested patrons is also one of the best-preserved in the classical canon–composers, performers, you name it.
San Antonio classical music patron Johanna Rabinowitz was the epitome of the classical patron, a woman beloved by the arts scene in her city for her love of music and her generosity. Rabinowitz, who died on September 29 at the age of eight-five, was a benevolent and extraordinary example of patronage, and her life reads almost as a blueprint for aspiring patrons of the arts–of whom there are hopefully many today. Raised in a musical family, Rabinowitz was steeped in music from an early age. She studied violin, viola, and piano in her youth; her mother knew every word from every Wagnerian opera; and several uncles were pianists. Rabinowitz was no privileged peer of Haydn’s time; she was born to a Jewish family on a then-disputed strip of land that was governed by the League of Nations, then turned over to France, then Germany. Her family emigrated to Cleveland before the outbreak of World War II and helped Jewish escapees to the United States. Despite living in a turbulent time, Rabinowitz’s life was most shaped by her love of music–instilled in her by the broadcasts she heard as a child from Radio Luxembourg.
Rabinowitz’s life enabled her to give back to the classical music scene generously. Her husband was a doctor, and she was trained as a nurse. Her husband, a native of San Antonio, relocated the pair from Cleveland to Texas, where they embarked on a life together, one rich in generous acts of patronage. Rabinowitz, in her 50 years in the San Antonio area, helped to organize a music festival, an opera guild, and youth concerts with the San Antonio Symphony. She served on the board of the San Antonio Symphony, the Youth Orchestra of San Antonio, and the San Antonio International Piano Competition and was a trustee of the National Endowment for the Arts. Rabinowitz, remembered by her granddaughter Jennifer St. Mary, was “regal,” and the San Antonio arts community loved her as much as she loved it.
No comments yet.