CityReads│The unforgettable Shanghai gentleman

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The unforgettable Shanghai gentleman

A Chinese violinist's voyage through the 20th century

The Gentleman From Shanghai (1999) directed by Heather Greer

Sheila Melvin, Jindong Cai, 2004. Rhapsody in Red: How Western Classical Music Became Chinese, Algora Publishing

Sources: https://www.nytimes.com/1999/12/03/style/IHT-a-chinese-violinists-voyage-through-the-century.html

https://www.nytimes.com/2000/03/05/arts/spring-music-orchestras-an-orchestra-with-a-political-accompaniment.html

I first came to learn about Tan Shuzhen when I watched the documentary, From Mao to Mazart: Isaac Stern in China. It records the first visit to China by the American violinist Isaac Stern in 1979, three years after the official end of the Cultural Revolution. Stern traveled through the country for a month, giving several concerts and numerous master classes. He interacted with the Chinese musicians and students extensively. There is one scene that I remember quite vividly, where the violinist and professor Tan Shuzhen at Shanghai Conservatory of Music talked about his experience during the cultural revolution. It leaves a deep impression on me. I feel eager to learn more about him.

My most favorite play by Wang Jian of From Mao to Mozart

Tan features prominently in Sheila Melvin and Jindong Cai's Rhapsody in Red: How Western Classical Music Became Chinese.

Fortunately, the producer of From Mao to Mozart made another film on the extraordinary life of Tan Shuzhen in 1999, titled The Gentleman from Shanghai and directed by Heather Greer. In the film, Tan Shuzhen tells his life throughout the 20^th century, an epitome of modern and contemporary history of China. Shuzhen means to tell the truth in Chinese. Tan Shuzhen lived up to his name. He was indeed a man of truth.

Tan was born in Qingdao in 1907 to Christianized parents. His father was a doctor who played violin at the turn of the last century.

"My father's family was very poor," he said. "Not beggars, but about the same. Then the Germans came to Qingdao and started building houses. My father's older brothers were carpenters, and they went to build houses for the Germans and earned money so my father could go to school."

His father's success enabled Tan to be educated in English by American missionaries, first in Henan Province and later at the Peking Academy in Beijing. Though he wanted to play violin for as long as he can remember, he first studied piano and Chinese instruments. When he was 15 and living in Beijing, a classmate named Tian Cong borrowed a violin for him to play and he began lessons with the first of his nine teachers, Li Xugang, who taught him for free.

Tan Shuzhen and his father

In 1925, Tan moved to Shanghai and registered in a school to learn violin. But when the teacher saw Tan playing, he said that Tan was much better a player than he was. One semester later, Tan became a violin teacher in that school.

In March 1927, Tan Shuzhen, entered the rehearsal hall of the Shanghai Municipal Orchestra and approached its Italian conductor, Mario Paci. The orchestra was preparing for a concert to be held on March 26, the 100th anniversary of Beethoven's death.

''The orchestra was all foreigners,'' Mr. Tan said recently. ''The rule was, they played in Shanghai for five years and then got one year paid furlough. I knew they were missing a violinist, so I asked if I could play.''

This was no ordinary request: since the orchestra's founding in 1879 as the Shanghai Municipal Public Band, no Chinese musician had ever joined its ranks. The orchestra was created by and for the foreign residents of Shanghai who had lived in self-governing concession areas since the Opium War in 1842.

''Paci just looked at me,'' Mr. Tan continued. ''Then he said, 'Come tomorrow.' '' Mr. Tan appeared the next day and played in every remaining rehearsal and concert.

Tan arrived the following morning and awaited further instructions. As Paci mounted the podium, he noticed Tan and ordered, "Second violin, inside seat."

Tan took his assigned seat, which was next to a talented Filipino violinist named Sato. He had only a moment to glance at the score before the rehearsal began.

"It was Beethoven's Fifth. The sound was so big — da-da-da-DAH! I'd never heard it so loud!"

Paci conducted rehearsals just like concerts, playing all the way through without stops. When it was over, Paci glanced at Tan and then asked Sato, "How is he?"

Sato replied, "He's all right."

"Come tomorrow," Paci told Tan.

Tan came the next day, and kept coming off and on for the next 22 years that preceded the founding of the People's Republic. Tan became the first Chinese musician to play in Shanghai Municipal orchestra. ''Nobody had ever seen a Chinese in the orchestra,'' Tan said, ''So many people came to see me.''

As the season drew to a close, a Chinese worker in charge of laying out scores urged him to ask Maestro Paci for his salary. Mr. Tan demurred but finally mustered enough courage to ask if he was to be paid.

''Of course not,'' came the reply. ''This is a chance for you to study.''

Tan was untroubled by this rebuff. ''I didn't care about the money,'' he said. ''My goal was to learn.'

Because he was Chinese, he did not receive payment for his work until 1938, when so many foreign musicians had fled Shanghai after the Japanese invasion that the orchestra was forced to accept Chinese musicians and pay them. To make ends meet, he taught violin and opened a store called Metropolitan Music House. Tan met his future wife when he hired a helper for the store.

"Big name, small store," he said. "I went bankrupt."

Tan moved back to Qingdao and learned how to make violins by reading German books. Eventually, he met an Englishman who repaired violins and an American who worked for Texaco and made violins in his spare time — both gave him more books and taught him what they knew. Tan returned to Shanghai in 1937, but the situation there was very unstable.

In 1937, the Japanese expanded their area of control in mainland China to include Shanghai. Tan resigned from the Shanghai orchestra rather than play for the conquerors, returning to the orchestra when the Japanese left.

Skyrocketing inflation devoured his wages and Tan struggled to feed his family. He worked at the symphony by day and by night played in movie theaters. On nights off, he repaired violins, drafted and typed English letters, and moonlighted as an architect. He was stricken by tuberculosis in 1947, but could only afford a month of bed rest.

"Life was so hard, we just waited for the Communists to come."

Tan’s four children

When the Communists came, the order was given from Beijing that Tan should become the vice director of the Conservatory of Music. Though this was an honor, it was not one that Tan wanted and he did his best to refuse it. "That was before I understood that you can't turn down the Communist Party. So, as soon as the good days of the symphony started, I had to leave."

But, looking back, Tan feels that he was better off at the conservatory, which is managed directly by the central government and has more resources. The Shanghai Conservatory maintained a precarious existence, despite an increasing official suspicion of decadent, Western sounds. In addition to his administrative responsibilities, he ran the conservatory's violin section and became involved in the establishment of China's first violin-making factory. He was named a representative to the central government from Shanghai and organized the musical portion of National Day celebrations each year.

The Cultural Revolution struck in full in 1966. Tan was denounced by one of his students. To educate their decadent elder, Tan’s students ransacked his living quarters, destroying “Western” objects and stealing his wristwatch and his wife’s wedding ring. Tan was confined to a windowless, unlighted, unventilated storage room for 14 months. Afterwards, he was put to work cleaning the conservatory’s 122 toilets, a task that not only taught him humility but allowed the students more time to think up ways to torment their elders. In all, 17 of the teachers at the conservatory committed suicide rather than endure the continued humiliations and beatings they received from the Red Guard. Tan attributes his endurance to his Christian faith. Recalling his time locked in a closet, Tan said: “I just thought, 'It's night now, but the sun will come out eventually.'”

The Cultural Revolution ended in 1976. Tan was cleared of all wrongdoings and he was restored to his former position at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music. Tan was a man with great heart. He reconciled with his students who had tortured and humiliated him during the cultural revolution. In the film, Tan said:

“Let begones be begones. If you hate someone, the one hated does not feel anything. But you yourself would be hurt first. Forgive makes me happy, makes me have a peaceful mind”.

At age 92, Tan continued to make and play violins and taught the music for which he almost died. He practiced violin every day, saying he was grateful for the opportunity to continue improving his skills, and read voraciously.

Three years after the making of The gentleman from Shanghai, Tan Shuzhen passed away. I am very grateful to the director, Heather Greer, for making this documentary so we can learn about the extraordinary story and the great personality of Tan Shuzhen.

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