| Close relationships had to blossom with the fertile greenery of St. Nicholas Park just a few steps away. So many students walked down the uneven paths as warm spring breezes nudged starry-eyed couples away from returning to class. Does this refresh anyone's memory? Personally, my girlfriend at M&A was the late Regina Lundy (Class of '72). We were an item from 1969 through 1973. She helped make my time at M&A ('68 - '71) even more enjoyable and certainly memorable. |  1972 |
Who was that special someone that you met while at M&A? Was it someone who held your heart for years or was that person an unspoken crush from afar? At the very least, you've had more than thirty years to reminisce. It's time to share.
 | During his second year as the mayor of New York City, Fiorello H. LaGuardia continued in his push to open his personal project for the arts. The area where Lincoln Center resides was first proposed but because of budgetary issues, the decision was made to attempt the new idea for the school in the New York Training School for Teachers located on 135th Street and St. Nicholas Terrace. The ‘Training School’ (1931 – 1933) had been abolished during the depression. |
| During 1935, Mayor LaGuardia seized the opportunity to utilize the building space but the gothic themed structure was not unoccupied. There were children and female high school seniors already there roaming the hallways of the Castle. The following are excerpts from the book ‘Accent on Talent,' by Benjamin M. Steigman (principal of M&A, 1937‐1959): |  |
Page 31
The meager subsistence granted in the middle thirties to musicians and artists was reflected in the initial allotment of funds for HSMA. The authorities may have felt that LaGuardia’s urge to get the school going might subside, so let there be no rash commitments. Should his eagerness persist he would appreciate, proud as he was of his battle against waste, a proper show of economy. And so a prudent beginning was announced. There were some vacant rooms in the building up on St. Nicholas Terrace at 135th Street that had housed the gradually depleted New York Training School for Teachers and was used in part by Public School 134 and in part as an annex of Wadleigh High School for girls. Tentative arrangements were made for their gradual evacuation, should the new school take hold and grow.
The meager subsistence granted in the middle thirties to musicians and artists was reflected in the initial allotment of funds for HSMA. The authorities may have felt that LaGuardia’s urge to get the school going might subside, so let there be no rash commitments. Should his eagerness persist he would appreciate, proud as he was of his battle against waste, a proper show of economy. And so a prudent beginning was announced. There were some vacant rooms in the building up on St. Nicholas Terrace at 135th Street that had housed the gradually depleted New York Training School for Teachers and was used in part by Public School 134 and in part as an annex of Wadleigh High School for girls. Tentative arrangements were made for their gradual evacuation, should the new school take hold and grow.
 | It was a precarious beginning. The dozen available rooms had only token music and art equipment; and the first group of 250 selected elementary school graduates (125 for art, 125 for music) who were admitted in February 1, 1936, were in some respects part of Wadleigh High School and took their academic work with teachers of the |
school. The Wadleigh seniors were relatively tall mature young women who must have found their over-eager, darting twelve- and thirteen-year-old schoolmates a bit trying. And so must the little six- and eight-year-olds of P.S. 134, not always sheltered from the rush of the newcomers through the halls between classes.
| Page 34 Some day, the hope was held out they would be in complete possession of the building, and then provision would be made for all their requirements. Meanwhile, they must submit to the divided rule, with the public school under the jurisdiction of the elementary-school division of the board of education, HSMA under the high-school division. |  |
Page 35
The division between the two “divisions” was distinct and pronounced. An elementary-school assistant superintendent supervised his own domain, and let there be no infringement, no trespassing thereupon! Should a bewildered HSMA first-timer find himself beyond the swinging doors that separated the two schools, an indignant call would come from the assistant superintendent ‘s office, most likely followed by an indignant call from the high-school assistant superintendent ‘s office. Territorial integrity of each of the two zones was sometimes put to the test and diplomatic relations between them strained. Example: occupation of the faculty lunchroom was shared by the teachers of both schools, with guaranteed freedom of access at all times, and due precaution taken against any provocative incident such as might be caused by an HSMA student, late for class, making a flying leap across a P.S. 134 teacher’s borders.
The division between the two “divisions” was distinct and pronounced. An elementary-school assistant superintendent supervised his own domain, and let there be no infringement, no trespassing thereupon! Should a bewildered HSMA first-timer find himself beyond the swinging doors that separated the two schools, an indignant call would come from the assistant superintendent ‘s office, most likely followed by an indignant call from the high-school assistant superintendent ‘s office. Territorial integrity of each of the two zones was sometimes put to the test and diplomatic relations between them strained. Example: occupation of the faculty lunchroom was shared by the teachers of both schools, with guaranteed freedom of access at all times, and due precaution taken against any provocative incident such as might be caused by an HSMA student, late for class, making a flying leap across a P.S. 134 teacher’s borders.
The concrete school yard was public-school territory, the P.S. 134 children played there in relays the whole day, and their shrill voices outside made the distraught HSMA French teachers in the rooms on the second floor right above raise their eyes to heaven and mutter appeals to the name-of-a-name. It was several years before a new public-school building was completed so that those children could move out. 1
Next time you roam the hallways of the Castle, look closely. You might find the crayon etchings of former playful students.
1 Benjamin M. Steigman, Accent on Talent, Detroit, Wayne State University Press (1964): 31 - 35
By Bernie Bierman - Class of Spring 1951
(As seen on Facebook, Music and Art High School (M&A), May 1, 2015)
(As seen on Facebook, Music and Art High School (M&A), May 1, 2015)
The M&A Class of June 1951 held its 50th graduation ceremony in early June 2001. Among other celebratory things, a commemorative album was produced. Following is the introduction to that album. I believe that many if not all of you will relate to some of the things that are said.
"When talking to many people about high school reunions, I have come away with the feeling that to most, high school reunions are more interesting, and often more important than college reunions. The people with whom I have spoken appear to recall their high school classmates more vividly than they do their college classmates. But on the other hand, when I asked those same people whether they felt the bonds made during those high school years had lasted, the response was in some cases a qualified “yes”, but in most cases, a clear “no”.
And it is precisely there that Music & Art is decidedly different, and this is moreover evidenced by the fact that Music & Art has an alumni association unlike any other high school alumni association. Indeed, in New York City, the alumni associations of so-called special high schools like Bronx Science, Stuyvesant and Brooklyn Tech pale next to that of Music & Art. Clearly, Music & Art generates a feeling in its alumni that few high schools can duplicate. Music & Art was not just a high school. It was an experience. It was such an experience that every year, hundreds of its graduates come together to celebrate that experience. And when they come together, the bonds forged years before and the camaraderie born in the four years spent there appear to be as strong as ever. Why? There are probably a score of reasons, but one is the fact that every one of us shared (and undoubtedly still shares) a love and passion for the fine or performing arts, and in many cases, for both. Without dispute, the performing and fine arts are by themselves natural bonding agents. |
My four years at Music & Art were spent not so much as a participant but more as an observer. Why I chose this path is of course another story for another day. Yet, it was this very role as observer that would in time lead me to bring together so many of those people who I, in a manner of speaking had shunned, but at the same time had carefully observed.
When I walked down the steps of St. Nicholas Park for the last time on June 26, 1951, I wanted to purge myself of all thoughts of the previous four years. I was fairly much convinced that I had made a serious error by choosing to attend M&A, and indeed for the following ten or so years, I gave little if any thought to those days on St. Nicholas Heights.
Curiously enough, I kept most of the mementos and memorabilia of my high school days. Curious, because while an outer voice was saying that Music & Art had no meaning, an inner voice seemed to be saying just the opposite. And what was always significant was that despite my proclamations that the school held little meaning for me, I seemed to be able to recall with stark vividness some 250 of the names and faces of my 288 classmates, and then go on to recount all sorts and manner of things they did, or words they had said. |  |
As the transition into adulthood took hold, I began to realize that my decision to attend Music & Art High School was not a grievous mistake, but on the contrary a very wise choice. Maturation had now made me see, and realize even more how fortunate I had been to spend four years at this school. However, a school by itself is in a certain way an abstraction. What is concrete, what is specific are the people of the school. And the people of this school were my classmates, all 288 of them…special, unique, interesting, fascinating boys and girls, and equally special, unique, interesting, fascinating men and women, as this album will clearly demonstrate.
Bernie Bierman
August 2001
Pawling, NY"
Bernie Bierman
August 2001
Pawling, NY"
(As seen on Facebook, Music and Art High School (M&A), August 31, 2015)
You music majors probably recall one of the most oft-asked questions at M&A: "What instrument did you come in on?" As one of our English teachers once commented, this conjured up the image of people entering the school on a rolling piano or a floating violin or a flying flute.
Well, I "came into" Music & Art "on the violin", or at least a violin. But allow me to stop here for a while and reveal something that many of you never knew or refresh the memories of those who may have forgotten (you see, even at age 14 I was an addicted observer):
The hardest instrument "on which to get into M&A" was the piano. Why? Because once you got into the school, there was really nothing practical that could be done with pianists. An all-piano "orchestra"? Not likely. Two thousand four hundred piano recitals? I doubt it. What the school really needed and wanted in the music domain were instrumentalists, namely people who played instruments that were slightly more portable. After all, it had 1 string orchestra, 5 symphony orchestras, 2 symphonic bands and an "illegitimate child" known as the dance band. That translated into a hunger for string players, woodwind players, brass and percussion players. So the bottom line (no one even heard of the expression in those days) was that all of those kids "coming in" on all of those rolling pianos had to be re-trained (or as the Chinese Communists might have said, "re-educated") on strings, woodwinds, brass, percussion or voice. Thus, the entrance exam for pianists was made far more difficult and demanding than for a player of any other instrument (save for the saxophone and accordion, which is another story for another day).
And for what particular instrumentalist was the school literally desperate? Violinists. That one string orchestra and those 5 symphony orchestras needed fiddlers, lots of fiddlers. And wasn't it more practical to get a mediocre fiddler who could play "Variations on Mary Had A Little Lamb" than to get an outstanding pianist who would need a year's training or two on the instrument to learn "Mary Had A Little Lamb" (senza variazione)? "Give us your tired, your poor, your violinists" said the beacon high atop the Castle-on-the-Hill.
...
I took the entrance exam for Music & Art in the Spring of 1947, for which I practiced the Bach A minor Violin Concerto for not more than 1 hour and 10 minutes, the extra 10 minutes being a clear indication of my intent to get into the school. But why the Bach violin concerto? A reliable intelligence source had informed me that Isidore Russ, a certified Bach fanatic, would most likely be the violin examiner. Today we would call this "marketing".
I took the entrance exam for Music & Art in the Spring of 1947, for which I practiced the Bach A minor Violin Concerto for not more than 1 hour and 10 minutes, the extra 10 minutes being a clear indication of my intent to get into the school. But why the Bach violin concerto? A reliable intelligence source had informed me that Isidore Russ, a certified Bach fanatic, would most likely be the violin examiner. Today we would call this "marketing".
Since most of the violin players in the Wade Junior High School Orchestra were still struggling with "Lightly Row", "Au Clair de la Lune" and such other pieces for the aspiring virtuosi, my playing of the Bach A minor Violin Concerto clearly placed me in the category of a junior Heifetz or Menuhin or Milstein. Notice of my successful marketing techniques came in the Spring of 1947. My head swelled to the point where I needed to increase my hat by at least 3 sizes. And with that swollen head and seam-bursting ego, I walked up the steps to St. Nicholas Heights for the first time on a cool September morning, 7 days after Labor Day in 1947. |  |