The Critic & the Lady

Alberto Goldschmidt, 47, is probably the only music critic in the world who insists that he has to carry a revolver. It is purely a matter of self-defense: in the 13 years he has been in Chile, during which time he has written criticism for Santiago's La Hora and Ultima Hora, he has been set upon 14 times by irate readers who objected to his acid words. The only man ever wounded by his Smith & Wesson was Goldschmidt; he shot himself in the hand while cleaning it. Usually it has been a beefy baritone or basso who socked him, although a tenor once tried to strangle him. Last week a woman beat him to the punch.

Fancy Front. Goldschmidt went to hear grey, 61-year-old Paul Paray of the Paris Concerts Colonne direct Beethoven's Eroica at Santiago's ancient Teatro Municipal. As usual, he did not like it. "It wasn't Beethoven," he wrote. "It was a fancy front with nothing behind it."

His review had barely hit the newsstands when the conductor's wife brushed into La Hora's office and stood before Critic Goldschmidt's desk. Madame Paray, a blonde and ample Alsatian, is about 20 years younger than her husband. She is also a loyal wife. For 15 minutes she rawhided the critic in German. Sighed Goldschmidt as she left: "A real Valkyrie."

Undaunted, Goldschmidt was in his customary Seat 373 when the next Paray concert began. It was a brave, if foolhardy, decision. At intermission time Madame Paray rushed over to him and screamed: "How dare you come here? I won't stand for your presence!" Then she slapped his face. From all sides his old enemies--conductors, impresarios and artists--closed in, eager to settle old scores. They pummeled the hapless critic, and kicked him right into the street.

Weak Flanks. A German Army officer in World War I and a fighter versed in military strategy, Alberto Goldschmidt went to South America in 1934 to advise the Bolivian Government in the Chaco war. When war's end stranded him in Santiago, he stayed on to work for La Hora.

As a music critic, he kept right on attacking weak flanks. He fired his potshots impartially at the great & small. He denounced Erich Kleiber and Eugene Ormandy for sloppy guest -conducting, upbraided Chilean tenors and Uruguayan baritones for untalented concertizing. The daily pounding put Chilean artists and musicians on their guard; it also raised Santiago's music standards considerably.

Last week even those who thought his blasts quite severe protested that slaps and shoves were not a proper answer. "An offense to culture," huffed the dignified El Mercurio. The day after the Paray slapping, Goldschmidt did his cause no harm by writing that he had rather liked the first part of the concert but that he had to leave hurriedly at intermission time.

By week's end the sympathetic cry had grown so great that Critic Goldschmidt was welcomed back to Seat 373.

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