Elegantly standing among Marion greats on the wall of the Community School of Arts, James Dean, Cole Porter, Samuel Plato, Willis Vandevanter, and Kennesaw Mountain Landis is the regal image of Mildred Dilling. Ms.Dillings ’ claim to fame was as the world’s foremost musician on the harp.
Born in Marion, Indiana, on February 23, 1894, to a family of candy makers, her mother insisted that her daughters learn to play instruments. Mildred and her sister Charlene studied piano and violin under Samuel Nussbaum at the Marion Conservatory of Music.
Ms. Dilling was drawn to the harp early on, but teachers of the instrument were hard to come by in Marion. The family business took them to Indianapolis, where she was able to get more expert instruction. She traveled to Paris and studied under the most acclaimed harpists on the continent.
In a profile for The New Yorker Magazine, she recounts that her first concert in Indianapolis upon her return from Europe was interrupted when a bat flew into her harp. Her first concert in New York almost met with tragedy when she noticed workers indelicately wrestling with her harp case, walked off the stage, and fell into the orchestra pit. Dilling credited her early physical education classes with training her to land like a cat, allowing her to go on with the show.
On the world stage, Dilling performed for prime ministers and kings. She had a request to dance the Charleston with the Prince of Wales, but turned him down because she had a concert the next day. Dilling was a devout Christian Scientist and frowned on alcohol and smoking, but otherwise enjoyed the social whirl.
In recounting her life on the stage, the Marion musician most fondly recalls her friendship with the zaniest of all the wacky Marx Brothers, Harpo. While shopping for a music box, Harpo heard Ms.Dilling playing in the store. Taken by her playing, Marx walked up and said, “Lady teach me that.” The comedian used a harp in the comedy act with his brothers, in a style that the formally trained Dilling found appalling. After the initial struggle of learning the basics, Harpo became a devoted pupil, often calling her at three in the morning with questions. This required that Dilling haul her harp from the next room.
On one occasion, Dilling was playing for a boys’ school in New York, where she told the boys that Harpo had parked his gum under her bench. When leaving, she noticed that the dried gum was missing and reported it to the headmaster, who rounded up the guilty parties. They produced a more recently chewed gum wad, claiming it to be the original.
The author noted that Mildred Dilling was as acclaimed in her hometown of Marion as if she were the winning pitcher of the World Series—an honest compliment for a classical harpist.
“The Harp Lady “ https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1940/02/03/the-harp-lady
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.