Verdi’s requiem at terezin features gas stoichiometry formula


Marianka Zadikow May was just 20 years old when she was imprisoned at the Terezin concentration camp, in what was then Czechoslovakia, in May 1942. She found herself in a barrack of 2,000-plus women. She was scared. But May was also young and curious, so she explored the barrack, finally reaching the attic. There she was surprised to find groups of women – not feeling sorry for themselves, but reciting poetry, discussing art and other things of beauty, singing. Passionate electricity definition about music since childhood, she joined the singers. One woman silently took her hand. She put a small piece of paper into it. It was an address in Terezin, which the Germans called Theresienstadt, a date and time. With much trepidation, May kept the appointment. When she arrived, she was asked if she was there for the music, and when she answered in the affirmative, she was sent to the basement. There was an old harmonium where Rafael Schächter sat, May, now 86, remembered in an interview from her Pine Bush, N.Y., home. Schächter she learned, was a highly respected opera conductor in Prague. He told us to sit down and ‘I will call you one by one,’ she recalled. Schächter played a melody on the harmonium and said, Sing this. Then he told us, ‘You are an alto, you are a soprano,’ May said. Although she wanted to be an alto, to sing the middle voice, Schächter told her, You’re a soprano. With those words, May electricity examples became a member of a chorus that was to make history, defying its Nazi persecutors with music, culminating with Giuseppe Verdi’s powerful – and at times terrifying – Requiem Mass. The Vermont Symphony Orchestra and VSO Chorus will celebrate the courage of this chorus with a performance of Verdi’s Requiem, conducted by Robert De Cormier, on Saturday, May 1, at 8:15 p.m., at Burlington’s Flynn Center for the Performing Arts. (That performance is sold out but there are tickets available for the 2 p.m. dress rehearsal.) The Terezin camp and the Holocaust will also be remembered in a series gas in back relief of complementary presentations (see box). De Cormier, who has previously conducted the Requiem in tribute to survivors and victims of the Holocaust, feels a personal relationship with the Terezin prisoners. When the Requiem was first performed in the camp, I was in the Army, De Cormier said. In October 1944, when Schächter and most of the Terezin musicians went to the gas chambers, De Cormier was fighting in Europe, where he was seriously wounded. I realized that I was a part of that, De Cormier said. I was generally aware of what was going on, but I was totally ignorant of anything like Terezin. So, when I learned about it, I felt very close to it, and in a sense, part of it, because I had been part of that war. Frederick Terna, now 86 and an artist living in Brooklyn, was also a prisoner in the Terezin camp, and remembers the camp’s population as being particularly sophisticated. It was a mixture of Czechs from Prague, former officers of the Imperial Army from Germany and Austria, professors and people who were prominent in the arts. Terezin was a place where Jews from Czechoslovakia were sent before being shipped east, Terna said, referring to Auschwitz, the Nazi extermination camp. Terna arrived at Terezin in 1943 when he was 20 years old. He had come from the Czech camp at Lipa. Like gas national average at other Jewish concentration camps, the prisoners at Terezin were slave laborers, doing the Nazis’ bidding for 10 hours a day. They were given only enough food to give them the strength to work. But cultural life was as vibrant as can be, Terna said, for the simple reason that it was the outlet that was open. Everybody had to work. But the workday ended at 5 p.m. and curfew was at 8 p.m. There was an enormous number of lectures; someone counted 4,000, Terna said. The range was incredible – from philosophy to linguistics to ethnology. Everything was discussed. These lectures were timed so that everyone could be back in his or her barracks by the 8 p.m. curfew. The Terezin camp housed respected composers like Krása, Ullman, Pavel Haas and Gideon Klein, but it was Schächter who proved to be the catalyst for the intense musical activity. Rafael Schächter was our guiding light, May said. I don’t even have a word for him. He was loved and respected by everybody, but people who were lucky enough to talk to him gas oil at choir rehearsals found him to be immensely interested in human beings. Schächter, who was born in 1905, led concert versions of operas, beginning with Smetana’s The Bartered Bride, which was performed many times in the camp. Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro followed, and then others. May was always part of the chorus. These evenings went on as if we were living life normally, May said. It was moments of the past – we went back to a better life. The moment the music stopped, we believed we could survive because of the feeling that music gives you. The Nazis largely allowed this artistic activity to go on – for their own reasons. They wanted us to make the music – for propaganda purposes, May said. Even a film was made for the Red Cross. See how the Jews live in Terezin – while our poor soldiers die in the electricity quiz for grade 5 field, May paraphrased. One day, Schächter approached the idea of the Verdi Requiem. He explained its history and its Latin text. Learning the massive work was an incredible feat, as the singers had to learn by rote. There was only one score. But, learn, they did. It was an unbelievable feeling of achievement – and we also wanted to please Raffie, May said. Others had the same feeling. This is a great man doing a daring thing – it was not easy to. Vocal soloists weren’t a problem. There were enough opera stars in the camp capable of the Requiem’s Herculean demands. The bass soloist, Karel Berman, from electricity and magnetism study guide 5th grade the Prague Conservatory, was a friend of Terna’s, and the two were at Lipa together. There, Terna was a member of a small men’s chorus that Berman had formed. They sang in a bathhouse – with no water – while one of them kept an eye out for the Nazis. One day, they were singing a folk song based on Psalm 137, On the Waters of Babylon, when the lookout failed Suddenly, ‘Achtung!’ And there he was, the camp commander with his retinue, Terna said. He said, ‘What’s going on?’ Singing. What are you singing electricity generation by source by country? Communist songs? No, folk songs. Well, sing something! Berman turned around, faced us, rolling his eyes, saying, ‘You’re singing for your life.’ They sang the psalm in German. The whole thing was reverberating beautifully, Terna said. The commander said, ‘Good, good.’ And then he remembered who we was. ‘Dirty Jews! Out!’ For one second we had grabbed him, Terna said. Berman survived the Holocaust and became a singer at the Prague Opera. The first performance of the Requiem was at a former boys’ school in a large hall. Before this, the Nazis had not interfered, but that changed. Most of the chorus was shipped in the next transport east. We were left with 60 or 40, I don’t remember, out of a chorus of 150, May said. Raffie was stopping people in the street, ‘Do you sing?’ There were problems too with the Jewish elders, unhappy about Jews singing a Catholic Mass. There was an enormous amount of opposition, May said. There were some who were super-super religious, that were orthodox or who had been orthodox before, or they were just against Jews singing anything not Jewish. But, Schächter persisted, and the Requiem was performed some 15 times. The 16th and final, on June 23, 1944, was the most memorable. Attending was the Nazi command, including Adolph Eichmann, the SS officer dubbed the architect of the Holocaust. Schächter and his chorus gas x ultra strength during pregnancy may have been singing directly to the Nazi leader with the words of the ‘Dies Irae’: The day of wrath, that day Will dissolve the world in ashes As foretold by David and the sibyl! … When therefore the judge will sit, Whatever hides will appear: Nothing will remain unpunished. We didn’t have weapons so we could not fight them – but we could fight them with singing, May said. And in the ‘Libera me,’ there was nothing else that I felt than ‘Please, please, liberate me from this horrible place! Eichmann was overheard saying, The stupid Jews sing their own Requiem. When we sang the word ‘Requiem,’ it was very quiet. It was the very end – anybody’s very end, May said. In a way it was our own. This was the last music Raffie ever heard. A few weeks later, Schächter was transported to Auschwitz ag gaston birmingham where he died; exactly how is still disputed. But Raffie couldn’t die, because Raffie lives in people like me, May said. It’s something I cannot explain.