Americans have a history of struggling with prejudice. The recent protests over the war between Hamas and Israel illustrate this. Modern perspectives about prejudice are quite different than those held by our founding fathers at the time they adopted and signed our Declaration of Independence. Today the wording of its great principle “all men are created equal” is sexist.
Americans’ struggle with prejudice reared its head on the Cornell University campus in December 1919. A protest arose, not unlike the recent ones on college and university campuses. It occurred thirteen months after the end of World War I. Why did the 1919 protest take place at Cornell?
The American Legion opposed performances by any German or Austrian. For this reason, the Ithaca, New York American Legion Post announced its opposition to an Austrian-born performer at Cornell. The mayor of Ithaca published his opposition to it in the Ithaca newspapers and Syracuse Post-Standard. And who was the performer?
Friedrich “Fritz” Kreisler (1875-1962) was a famous violinist and pianist. He made his American debut in New York City in 1888. He toured the United States again between 1901 and 1903. During this visit, he fell in love with and married American Harriet Lies.
Following the outbreak of World War 1, Kreisler joined the Austrian Army, but was honorably discharged after being wounded in 1914. He traveled to New York City in November 1914 to perform and remained for ten years. He went back to Europe in 1924 to live in Berlin until 1938 when he moved to Paris. He came back to the United States after the outbreak of World War II in 1939.
Kreisler performed at Cornell University in December 1919. My great uncle Elmore Stone attended the concert as a student at Cornell. A letter to his parents following the concert contains his account of the concert and protest at Bailey Hall. Before I share his account, let me tell you a bit about Elmore (1896-1978).
Elmore’s education at Cornell began in 1915, but was interrupted by World War 1. He registered for the draft in 1917 and was drafted in 1918. He served in Europe from August 1918 to July 1919. As a member of the American Occupation Force, Elmore lived in Germany with a local family following the Armistice. In September 1919, Elmore returned to Cornell as a veteran to complete his undergraduate degree. He stayed in touch with the German family after returning to the States.
Elmore’s middle name, Becker, points a German heritage through his mother. It is German and Dutch for ‘baker of bread or bricks and tiles.’ His hometown, Dolgeville, New York, is named after a German immigrant, Alfred Dolge. Many Germans resided in Dolgeville and were friends with Elmore and the Stone family.
Elmore didn’t jump on the prejudice bandwagon before the concert. He and a female student, Mildred, attended the concert together. He told his parents, “I do like to hear [Kreisler] play. He is master of his violin. I enjoyed his own compositions much better than those of other composers.” After this lovely introduction, Elmore turned to the opposition about the concert, “There was much hard feeling here in the city…It started through the American Legion. They tried to boycott the concert and prevent Kreisler’s appearance in the city. The Department of Music wouldn’t cancel the concert so the Legion sought to stop the affair by requesting the city folks to stay away from the concert. The mayor, for obvious political reasons, endorsed that idea by a notice in the city papers. However I saw many town people there and few seats were vacant.” It’s apparent, many students and town people were more interested in hearing the world-renowned violinist than participating in a prejudicial boycott. They protested the protest.
Elmore gave his parents a ‘front row seat’ to the disturbance: “At the close of the first numbers of the concert, every light in the auditorium suddenly went out but Kreisler went on while an usher held a flashlight for the pianist. About that time, there was considerable shouting and disturbance outside. The ushers and some students went out and kept the mob out of Bailey Hall. I haven’t [any] doubt that Kreisler would have suffered injury had they gotten hold of him. It quieted down, the lights came back [on], and the concert went on. Kreisler must have been under [a serious] nervous strain, [which must have been] awful because he couldn’t help but know what was going on.” Elmore concluded this description by telling his parents, “Mildred got pretty nervous but, I guess, she enjoyed herself after things quieted down somewhat.”
My uncle’s critique of the incident stated, “It is a fine example of narrow-mindedness on the part of the members of the Legion, I think. I must say I can’t see the idea. And the Ithaca Journal-News had the nerve and audacity to come out with an editorial (and so did the Syracuse Post-Standard) saying that a bunch of students raided the campus and sought to break up the concert when it was some of the city’s bums and rowdies. The worst thing is that there was no policeman in sight so far as I have found out. Still the Journal said that policemen kept the mob at bay when it was ushers and students.”
How does this protest and the university’s persistence in holding the concert compare to the recent Israeli-Palestinian protests? Americans’ struggle with prejudice is not new. Off-campus pressure provoked the protest at Cornell. The American Legion’s national opposition to any German or Austrian performer was more narrow-mindedness than patriotic. The students and town people protested the protest by their attendance at the concert. And, in spite of the protest, Kreisler became a naturalized citizen twenty-three years later in 1943. Now, eighty-one years later, Americans still struggle with prejudice. How do you address narrow-mindedness?