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David McCallum, Violin, Leader |
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David McCallum, Violin, Leader |
The two just found unpublished photos to the right picture Monty discussing the fine points of a musical piece with his leader, David McCallum at BBC Studios, White City, Shepherd's Bush, London in 1971. David was a superb violinist who toured the USA and elsewhere with Mantovani. He was a classical violinist who played for many leading orchestras during his career. He was the father of film and TV star David McCallum who now lives in New York. The photos are courtesy of Iain Mackinnon, a Mantovani violinist of the 1970s, who actually took the pictures. (Colin MacKenzie)
The webmaster can recall reading a quote somewhere where Mantovani stated, "We can afford the Father but not the Son" (who also was a musician). Thank you Iain MacKinnon and Colin MacKenzie.
78 Recordings by David McCallum, Sr.:
DAVID McCALLUM (fiddle) with George Short (piano)
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Flowers of the Forest; Mrs McLeod
Broadcast
S.7-A
78
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Piper of Dundee; Marquis of Huntly's Farewell; Highland Whisky; High Level Hornpipe
Broadcast
S.7-A
78
DAVID McCALLUM (fiddle) with piano accompaniment
1537
The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond; Inveraray Castle; Flowers of Edinburgh
Parlophone
E 3433
78
1545
The Bonnie Lass o' Ballochmyle; Ye Banks and Braes
Parlophone
E 3433
78
David McCallum also played the role of a Blind Fiddler in the 1950 movie, "Last Holiday" starring Alec Guiness.
From Colin MacKenzie:
"David Mcallum, who modelled his playing on Fritz Kreisler (one of
Mantovani's favourite violinists) had a distinguished career, mostly in the
classical field. He was born in Kilsyth, Scotland, on 26 March 1897 and won
a Royal College of Music scholarship at the age of 14. In 1922 he broadcast
as a solo violinist for the first time. Between 1932 and 1936 he led the
Scottish Orchestra in Glasgow under Sir John Barbirolli, then was asked by
Sir Thomas Beecham to lead the London Philharmonic Orchestra. In wartime he
led the National Symphony Orchestra and played with the London Studio
Players and the BBC's Overseas Music Unit. When Beecham resumed after the
war with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, he took David as his leader and
they toured America in 1950. By 1952 McCallum led the London Symphony
Orchestra.
He joined Mantovani in 1961 and led his orchestra in America on several
occasions. He also went to Japan and Canada in the summer of 1963 with
Mantovani. In the 10 years he played with Mantovani he enjoyed several
outstanding solos including Alfie, Softly As I Leave You, Londonderry Air,
and Gypsy Carnival. He was quite a character and a number of musicians have
good stories about him. He was the father of the actor David McCallum which
prompted Mantovani's manager to write the gag for Monty to use at concerts
when introducing him: "We can afford the father but not the son!" His last
British concert tour with Mantovani was, it is believed, in 1971 and he died
shortly afterwards, although exactly when is not known. He was a top class
fiddler, a leading example of the many distinguished musicians who were used
by Mantovani for his recordings."
The following is presented through the courtesy of Ms. Margaret Wilson:
David McCallum, Sr. Obituary From "The Strad" (a classical music magazine for all strings enthusiasts including violinists, violists and cellists.)
"David McCallum, who died on March 21 at his home in Arundel, Sussex, will be sadly missed by countless numbers of people. He was one of the finest and best known violinists of this country, the doyen of distinguished violin leaders, with a long and eventful career. Almost to his last day he was busy plying--he never knew retirement--he never knew retirement--he spent his life playing the violin, and the love for the job he did so well was the feature about him we shall always remember.
He was born in 1897 in Kilsyth, a few miles outside Glasgow; music was a family tradition, and his mother, who played the organ and was deeply religious, wanted David to be a musician. He started learning the violin at seven, first from a teacher in his home town, then at the Glasgow Academy of Music, later he won a scholarship at the Royal College, London, where he studied under Maurice Sons, a pupil of Wieniawski and leader of the Queens Hall Orchestra in its great days. In the heritage of great leaders McCallum had many of the qualities, the fine technique, tremendous reserves of tonal power, and musicianship, that distinguished Maurice Sons.
The list of orchestras that David McCallum led includes very many international renoun, and conductors like Beecham, Bush, Klemperer, Sargent, and Toscanini had every confidence in him, they recognized his gifts, and were glad to see him at the leader's desk. Yet it is a measure of McCallum's range of musical adaptability that he loved to freelance, to go straight post to be a leader of the Television Orchestra and all its varied musical demands; he starred in light music ensembles like the famous Fred Hartley one where McCallum's "Caprice Viennous" violin solo introduced a programme the whole world knew.
But "Caprice Vionnous was more than a signature tune for McCallum--it typified his lifelong admiration for Kreisler. it has often been said that when McCallum played a Kreisler piece it was more than just like Kreisler--it was Kreisler. Like his favourite artist McCallum also played with bow tentioned almost as tight as it would go. You don't do that unless you have superlative bow control, and at the age well over seventy McCallum could play a slow melody in front of the most critical audience with a bow arm as steady as a rock. Although McCallum once said his proudest moment was playing the violin solo in Strauss's "Heldenleben" at a concert in Geneva with Szigeti listening to the audience, many will recall with pleasure his violin solos in popular vein when he led the Mantovani Orchestra (more correctly with Mantovani And His Orchestra, Ed.).
To violinists themselves McCallum was the professional's professional. Whatever he did he did well, music came to life when he played, he put all he had into his playing, it was dead straight, but it never lacked the fervour of the musicians to whom playing was his life. Although he was always playing, and sometimes you fancied he looked a little lost when he had not got a violin tucked under his chin, no stranger who met McCallum out of doors would have never guessed his vocation. He was a spare, lean man, nobody looked less like the popular image of a violinist, and in a half century or more his appearance never seemed to change; he had those sharp, almost hard feature that often go with the Glasgow race, and he never lost his accent, nobody had to ask McCallum where he came from. He was an astute judge of a violin. Somebody once said that on the few occasions he ever saw McCallum without a violin in his hand he was talking about them. He owned a succession of fine instruments; for some years he played on a famous 1735 del Gesu, later he became attached to his Peter of Mantua, but he could coax a good tone from almost any violin. If we all gave ourselves away in our playing, McCallum's individual sweet sound reveals a sympathetic inner nature underneath that granite face that did not often change expression. He could be generous of praise when it was deserved--it was typical of McCallum that could say of a colleague: "Ah, Paul Beard--now there's a real leader!"
But McCallum had little time from false sentiment, and he could be the hardhearted Scot sometimes. He once interrupted a notorious lady conductor at a rehearsal in the full blood of her exotic baton tantrums with: "Never mind the fancy stuff--just give us a good clear beat". Another time a fan asked where his wonderful tone came from. The classic reply is: "from the heart", but McCallum chose to identify an even deeper seated human organ: "I expect it comes from the bowels" he said in pawky Scotch accent.
And not-- it is hard to believe--he is gone. He was a great character, a man of whom it could be well said that you knew him the more you appreciated his sterling qualities. May we express our deepest sympathies with Dorothy, his widow, his two sons, David and Iain, and the six grandchildren."
David McCallum Notes as Conductor:
While I would trust my friend Don Southwell for this opinion. I suspect that the responsibilities of an Orchestra "Leader" may be considerable in its own right, but there is another that may be more so, and that is as the Conductor. I suppose that the Leader is also the assistant conductor during rehearsals at times but must also assume the responsibilities on the podium for concerts when the regular conductor is ill or otherwise unable to fulfill the responsibilities.
In the First American Tour (1950) of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Thomas Beecham fell ill and was confined to his New York City hotel. Here are a few newspaper reviews of the concerts with Leader and Assistant Conductor David McCallum on the podium:
From the Newport (Virginia) Ledger Dispatch, November 2, 1950:
"The news that Sir Thomas would be unable to appear came the shock of a thunderclap to the eagerly expectant audience that crammed the Center Theater Wednesday night.
The eagerly phrased announcement in polished English tones by the orchestra's manager that Sir Thomas was confined to his New York hotel by influenza seemed a discordant jar and was greeted with involuntary protests of "No! No!"...
...Concertmaster Conducts
The aura of eclat and anticipatory excitement now pretty well dispelled, David McCallum, the regular concertmaster and assistant director, took over the unenviable task of conducting.
The program that followed revealed the Royal Philharmonic as a well disciplined organization playing with sensitivity and precision, and so steeped in Beecham's own spirit that it quickly charmed the membership of the concert association..."
From The Pittsburgh (Pennsylvania) Press (Dec 8, 1950)
Fabulous British Conductor Presents Cream of English Musicians In Fine Concert. By Ralph Lewando, Press Music Critic
Sir Thomas Beecham, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra of London, and David McCallum, violin soloist, received a hearty welcome last night in their concert at Syria Mosque.
These good folks are a long way from home on an American tour comprising 46 concerts. And England may well be of them and their collective artistic endeavors.
These 105 musicians are the cream of Britain's orchestral crop (the orchestra included Jack Fleetcroft honoured elsewhere on this site). Every one of them is well-trained for the job. And they do it with admirable cohesive effort and vitality, always are on the beam and co-operatively responsive to their distinguished leader....
David McCallum, the orchestra's excellent concertmaster, gave a brilliant account or his part in the Delius Violin Concerto. He is a fine executant and draws from his lovely Guarnerius a fetching tone while playing with unerring virtuosity. And Sir Thomas and the orchestra collaborated skillfully. They reaped an ovation and recalls...
Other comments on McCallum the character:
From the book, "Where I Sit":
...But the leader of the orchestra is something even more far-out in this respect, and there are many fascinating personalities among them, and always have been. One of these was David McCallum. A familiar name now... as leader of every sort of orchestra from the Spa Scarborough to the London Philharmonic and finally the Royal Philharmonic. David was a thin man---gaunt, some would say, and with a great stern cast of contenence which led one critic in Illinois (USA) to call him "Stone Face'. He was in fact anything but a hard man; gentle of voice and coaxing rather than domineering, he could draw the loveliest of sounds from a section of players of mixed styles and abilities. His own tone, produced alike from one of his valuable--he had a Guarnerius, an Amati and a Bergonzi at one time, I believe--or any old fiddle he was asked to try, was warm and nearest I ever heard to that of his particular idol, Fritz Kreisler. Anyone who heard him play the solo in Deius's First Dance Rhapsody never forgot it. His typical Scottish generosity was the amusement of his friends on many occasions, but never more so than the one day at the EMI studios where Beeham had for once forgotten his cigar case. It was unthinkable that he should settle down to hear the first play-back without a smoke, and he complained bitterly to David. McCallum wasn't upset for a moment. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and took out an ancient and battered tobacco-tin which served him as a cigarette-case. Opening it, he fingered through the medley of cigarettes of all lengths from half-smoked to almost nose-igniting in length. Finally he held it out to the astonished conductor. 'Have a whole one, Sir Thomas,' he invited. A delightful man to have around, and one who always behaved with dignity and decorum.
