Kochavim / Stargazing

Jewish World Review March, 8, 1998 /20 Adar, 5759


The original Comedian Harmonists
Finding fame after a
half-century of waiting

By Curt Schleier

THE COMEDIAN HARMONISTS, the singing group on which the new play Band in Berlin is based, was banned in Berlin before the war. Two of its members were Jews and a third, though baptized and raised Catholic, had a Jewish grandmother, more than enough blood to win the Hebrew lottery.

Under pressure from the Nazi regime, what was at the time one of the most popular acts in Europe was forced to split up. And while the Jews who emigrated, ultimately to the U.S., prospered briefly, the group fell out of sight and out of popular memory--until recently.

Susan Feldman, who wrote, conceived and co-directed the play, first heard about the Harmonists in 1991. Feldman, 49, is artistic director and founder of the St. Ann Center for Restoration and the Arts. For the past two decades, she has raised funds to restore a historic Brooklyn Heights national landmark church and used it as a venue for a variety of performances, ranging from puppetry to film, but mostly musical events.

In 1991, Feldman was running a Kurt Weil concert, when a friend remarked how much the four singers she'd hired to sing Weil tunes sounded like the Harmonists. Her reaction was, "the who?"--which is of course a completely different ensemble. The friend, music journalist Jonathan Cott, loaned her records of the Harmonists and she became fascinated with them.

Quite by coincidence, a three-hour documentary about the group by German film maker Fechner Eberhardt was playing at the Public Theater. But that was made up exclusively of interviews with the surviving members of the group or surviving family, and had no performance footage.

It was, Feldman decided, "like hearing about the Beatles and hearing about Frank Sinatra, but never seeing them perform." So she and Wilbur Pauley, one of the singers in the Weill show, created what eventually became this play. "We thought we would juxtapose this beautiful, fun sound, against the reality of what was going on; the vibrancy of the period against the creepy, crawling final solution."

It was performed at St. Ann's in its first incarnation, and subsequently on public radio and in Rochester, each version getting closer to its present format. At first the group's story was told in a traditional way, with a linear narrative. But over time Band evolved into something more closely resembling Beatlemania. In that show, four young men sang Beatle songs while films and other images of the era flashed on screens behind them.

In Band in Berlin, too, five singers and a piano player reasonably faithfully duplicate the group's sound: intricate harmonies that fall somewhere between a barbershop quintet and the best of the Beach Boys, around the Pet Sounds album. They recreate, too, the band's act, the way it used the piano as a sixth singer, how the singers used their voices as musical instruments and how they joked and played on stage. It is a delightful entertainment. The on-stage performers have no dialogue. They sing and play and make it obvious why the Comedian Harmonists were the rage of Europe between 1927 and 1935, the period during which the play takes place.

But the real meat of the production goes on behind the performers, slides and film, some new, some archival, and with some artistic license a recreation of interviews conducted by Feldman and Cott with Roman Cycowski, the last surviving Harmonist. He lived in Palm Springs where he served as a cantor at Temple Isaiah until his death last November at age 91. The production is dedicated to him.

Feldman remembers visiting Cycowski in Palm Springs. "He took me to schul with him one Saturday morning, and sang the whole service. You never would have thought listening to that voice that he was 91 years old. I told him you sound fantastic. ‘Well,' he said, ‘it's only the morning. I haven't warmed up yet.

"When I met him it wasn't like talking to an old person. It was like talking to a musician. He had so much insight into pre-war Germany, the culture and what it was like then. He once said to me ‘Hitler spoiled everything.' He loved the German culture. That was very meaningful to me. I grew up Jewish but knew only the Germany of the Holocaust."

According to Feldman, Cycowski has mixed feelings about being the survivor, about being the only one left to tell the story. The Harmonists records were re-mastered and re- released in Germany during the '80s, precipitating renewed interest in the group. More recently, their music was released on CDs. "So he was being interviewed all the time. I was one of the first Americans to interview him. The Germans were always looking for bitterness. But he had very little bitterness, and he wasn't bitter at all towards Germany. He thought Hitler was the problem."

There was no anti-Semitism in the group--at least on the surface and in the beginning. Cycowski told Feldman the Christians were very respectful of the Jews, and did not perform on the Holy Days. "But as time went on," Feldman says, "things got a little dicier."

The Harmonists had the resources to leave Germany together, but the Christian members elected to stay, hoping that substitutes for departing members would enable them to continue. But they were never able to recapture the magic. The Jewish members went first to Vienna where they added a pianist, and were successful for a while, first there, then in the rest of Europe, Australia and finally the U.S. But when Cycowski received word that his father had been killed, he left show business to fulfill a promise he'd made to his father to become a cantor.

He'd trained to become a chazen in Poland before coming to Germany, first to sing opera and then perform with the group.

Working on this production has been an emotional experience for Feldman. She grew up in the Rockaway section of Queens, in what was a typical Jewish household of the period. She went to Hebrew School, the family got together for the Holidays, but the Holocaust was not discussed. Her father, a doctor, "was a medic during the war and actually went into the camps when they were liberated. He rarely ever talked about it, but it had a profound affect on him and that was passed on to me. As a kid I read The Diary of Anne Frank and remember thinking, that could have been me. It was a presence we all felt.

"Working over at St. Ann's I did a lot of researching of documentary film footage [for the production] and I would just get overwhelmed some times--and here her voice breaks briefly-- and wonder How could this happen? What were people doing? When we were making the Nazi banners and flags, I was thinking, this is what people all over Germany were doing."

The emotions were confusing for her. "Where was this coming from?" she wondered. "I haven't been walking around obsessing about the Holocaust all my life."

One of the special moments for her came during the initial run, back in 1992 at St. Ann's. Her father came to the premiere. They weren't sitting together, but she knew he was in the audience.

"I just said to myself, this is for him."


JWR contributor Curt Schleier is a freelance writer and author who also teaches
writing to business executives. Send your comments to him by clicking here.




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© 1999, Curt Schleier