Connections

What do an American comic, an English conductor and a Russian lexicographer have in common? JEROME KESSLER crossed paths with each of them.

Let’s take them one at a time:

In 1951, Jerome Kessler met comedian Morey Amsterdam, whose son, Gregory, was Kessler’s fourth grade classmate. Morey encouraged the young cellist, and even lent him his Guarnerius cello for six months when Kessler was thirteen. Kessler was a frequent guest in the Amsterdam home. He, his father and the Amsterdams played golf together. 

When Kessler was thirteen and started conducting, Morey gave him some advice: “Be a shmuck”.  Why, Kessler asked. Morey replied, “So when you get to be a success, no one will say, ‘Look how he’s changed.’”

At Morey’s funeral service, Kessler played his own Guarnerius cello.

As a onetime member of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, Kessler performed under famed British conductor and onetime cellist, Sir John Barbirolli. Sir John remembered Kessler’s Peter Guarnerius of Venice cello, which had once belonged to Beatrice Harrison, with whom the conductor had performed and recorded the Elgar Concerto. (The cello world is a small one, indeed.)

Nicholas Slonimsky was a delightful, energetic Russian-born gnome, a composer, pianist, conductor and author. Kessler recorded Slonimsky’s Studies in Black and White/Suite for Cello & Piano, with the composer at the keyboard. 

Years later, when Kessler ran into Slonimsky (then ninety) at a concert, he told the composer, “you look great.” By way of reply, Slonimsky enumerated the three ages of man: youth, middle age and gee, you look great. 

As for the other connections, Jerome Kessler was at one time married to pianist Beverly Carmen, whose father’s uncle was PINCUS KREMEGNE, a prominent post-impressionist artist, (School of Paris). In 1970 the Kesslers spent a week as the artist’s guests in Ceret, in the French Pyrenees.

Irish character actor Jack MacGowran was well known for his interpretations of the works of Samuel Beckett and Sean O’Casey. One of the Jerome Kessler’s most memorable studio events was the 1971 KCET’s American Television Theatre cinematic production of “Beginning to End”. This was MacGowran’s one-man show, consisting of monologues from Beckett plays. The film showed the actor, wearing a long greatcoat, walking about the California desert and spouting Becketisms.

The music for the one-hour program consisted of a score for unaccompanied cello by the jazz guitarist/composer, Mundell Lowe. Contractor Bill Hughes invited Kessler and his cello to the party, and a fascinating time was had by all.

Kessler later met Jack MacGowran when the actor reprised his performance in a live presentation at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles. There was no music this time, and the actor graciously allowed that he would have appreciated Kessler’s performance as background for the staged production.

The Hungarian cellist, Laszlo Varga, was at one time Principal Cellist of the New York Philharmonic, a long-time professor at San Francisco State University and a noted arranger of music for cello and multiple celli. He was Jerome Kessler’s last teacher, a lifelong friend and mentor.

Martin Kamen was an internationally respected biochemist who co-discovered Carbon-14. He was also an accomplished violist. Whatever he might have lacked in instrumental finesse he made up for with an encyclopedic knowledge of the chamber music and symphonic literature. He was one of Jerome Kessler’s long-time chamber music buddies.

Jim Murray was the Los Angeles Times’ Pulitzer Prize-winning sports writer. Jerome Kessler’s fan letter of support, following Murray’s heart surgery, was rewarded with a heartfelt thank you letter from Mr. Murray.

About Rita Hayworth, Jerome Kessler wrote:

“I slept in Rita Hayworth’s bed. Nothing further need be said.

“Oh, all right, maybe a little explanation is in order: Leonard Monroe was Rita Hayworth’s attorney and longtime manager, at the end of her career. I would sometimes speak to her when she called his office. Sweet lady,

“One weekend, she was scheduled to be out of town, and had asked Leonard to keep an eye on her house, a ’50’s ranch just above the Beverly Hills Hotel. At the last minute, Leonard had some out of town business of his own, and asked me to house-sit in his place.

“I slept in Rita Hayworth’s bed, alone. I didn’t even have a girlfriend there to share the experience with me. Pity. Afterward, I remade the bed.

“This story never appeared in the tabloids, and blogs didn’t then exist. You’re the first to read of my adventure. Well, maybe the second. Anyway, Miss Hayworth’s honor and reputation remain secure, unsullied by the likes of me.”