Elias Breeskin
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This Wikipedia article is being written on Fathers Day, June 17, 2007, by John Breeskin (Elias Breeskin’s oldest son) and Davyd Breeskin (his oldest grandson). For the most part, we will be following Elias Breeskin’s memoir, a 269-page document that was dictated to a stenographer just before Elias's death on May 9, 1969 in Mexico City. Olga Breeskin, Elias’s well-known Mexican/Russian daughter, will also be invited to contribute her comments to this article if she wishes. The accuracy of the memoir itself is subject to all the vagaries of the human mind. Since the above-mentioned authors were not physically present for most of the events described in the memoir, the details themselves can best be called “family lore”, and while there is validation among the current authors, these details still remain the thoughts of the original author himself. In this context, we do not feel that the specific small details are compelling; we hope the reader will be caught up in the excitement of the rush of the story. This article we are writing will attempt to stress both the positive and the negative aspects of Elias’s life, leaving it to the readers to come to their own conclusions.
Elias Breeskin was born sometime in 1896 in Yekaterinsolav, a small village in the Ukraine, which has now morphed into the industrial city of Dnepropetrovsk, with over a million inhabitants. The dam on the Dniper River, shown on the film “Dr. Zhivago”, is in this city. I (John) had the great pleasure of taking Elias to see the film in a widescreen theater in New York City, and he was totally caught up in the scenes that flashed in front of him. When the Cossacks unsheathed their swords before riding down the crowd, Elias stiffened, and translated the peasants’ cries for “chelb” as “bread”.
Elias was the youngest of three brothers. His older twin brothers were about ten years older than he, and were identified as potential classical musicians. The story has it that Boris and Daniel, at the age of 19, went off to the Caucasus Mountains to play a violin gig. Boris ran outside in the frigid air without his overcoat, caught pneumonia, and died. Elias was profoundly affected by the death of his brother. Olga, Elias’s mother, realized that he had musical talent as well, and bent her strong will to providing him with the best musical education that could be obtained in Russia at the time.
Elias’s references to his mother were always curious in nature. He referred to her with a mixture of emotions, among them being strong love, fear, admiration, and wonder, all present in his face. Elias’s father was a quiet, dear man who had learned, appropriately, not to cross his indomitable wife, who was approximately 200 pounds in weight, and quite muscular.
In 1903, shortly after Elias’s 7th birthday, his mother turned him over to a professional violinist in the local Conservatory for lessons. At the age of 8, he played the Bach E major concerto, and was a sensation. During the next two years, he toured the Ukraine and western Russia, and was met with overwhelming responses to his violin playing. He was hailed as one of the greatest child prodigies ever.
Due to the civil unrest in Russia at the time, the family decided to leave for the United States, as they had relatives already established in Washington, DC. Before he left Russia, Elias in 1906 played for Franz Joseph, Emperor of Austria-Hungary, with tremendous success. Family lore has it that the emperor gave him an enormous ring, with three rubies, directly from his finger.
When the family arrived in America, Olga decided that she was going to seek funding for her son’s musical career. She ensconced herself in front of The White House, and asked to see Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt. The guards ignored her. She returned to the front gate day after day, until Mrs. Roosevelt asked for information about “the babushka lady”. Olga told the First Lady about Elias, and asked if she and her friends could sponsor his musical education. After hearing him play, Mrs. Roosevelt agreed to do so, and got together a group of women who sponsored Elias’s education at the Juilliard School of Music, at that time called the Institute of Musical Arts.
In the early part of the century, the best violin instructor in America was Franz Kneisel. Maestro Kneisel took on Elias as a pupil, and had enormous influence on his subsequent career. After nine years at Juilliard, Elias won the Loeb prize in 1915. A part of this prize was a concert at Carnegie Hall, which was extremely well received; the reviewers in the next day’s newspapers remarked on the warmth and purity of his tone, his technical abilities, and the sincerity and refinement of his playing.
A wealthy patron, appearing to almost drop from the sky, gave Elias the Rougemont Stradivarius as a gift; he and the violin were inseparable for the next ten years. When the stock market crashed in 1929, Elias returned the violin to his benefactor to help him pay his debts.
In 1917, Elias became a member of the New York Symphony under Walter Damrosch. Others in the orchestra included future superstars Mischa Elman, Pablo Casals, and Joseph Hoffman. Elias won a place as Enrico Caruso’s accompanist for his tour in 1918.
In 1919, Elias met Adelyn Dohme, the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country, the owner of the Dohme Chemical Company, which later became Sharp and Dohme Pharmaceuticals. Adelyn’s family was very much opposed to their marriage, which took place in June of 1920. It was at this time that Elias became pathologically addicted to gambling. This malady was to plague him with horrendous consequences for both him and his family for the rest of his life.
Elias and Adelyn settled down, and he became concertmaster of the Capitol Theatre Orchestra in New York. In 1925, he became the conductor of the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra. Due to gambling debts, he had to leave Minneapolis, and ended up reestablishing the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in 1927. After two successful years there, Elias continued to run up enormous gambling debts, and Adelyn’s father was successful in getting his daughter to agree to end the marriage, effectively ending his career in Pittsburgh as well.
When Elias returned in disgrace to New York, he composed “Cosmopolis”, a descriptive piece which somewhat resembles Ottorino Respighi’s “The fountains of Rome”. At this time, Elias found himself in the intensive care unit of a hospital, having suffered a ruptured appendix. Peritonitis had set in, and he was not expected to live. After considerable medical intervention, his life was saved, and he was due to be discharged from the hospital. He said goodbye to everyone, including Anna, the nurses’ orderly on the ward; he asked her in his typically dramatic way, “How can I possibly thank you for giving me back my life?” Anna looked him straight in the eye, and said, “You can marry me”. When Elias told me this story, the night before I was due to be married, he reached his hand across the table in the bar on Broadway where we were sitting, tousled my hair, and said, “It’s a good thing too, because you were three months along the way”. Such were the details of my conception.
Elias was the arranger and one of the performers for the Eddie Cantor show; when it moved to Hollywood, the whole family went with it, including my brother Eugene, who was two years younger than I. We arrived in Hollywood in 1937, and moved into a wonderful neighborhood where Bob Hope lived down the street. During this time, there were so many musicians who were out of work that Elias formed what later became the Hollywood Bowl Symphony Orchestra, and began to write music for movies. It was also at this time that he embezzled the entire payroll of the orchestra, and left for Mexico City, on the run, because Mexico did not yet have an extradition treaty with the US. The musicians of the orchestra, knowing that Elias had ripped them off, still prepared a scroll for him, testifying to his musicianship, and for giving them a step forward in their careers. Elias kept that scroll on the wall for many years.
In 1941, Anna, Gene, and I joined Elias in Mexico City, where he had become musical director for XEW, the most important radio station in the country. I can clearly remember one Christmas sitting in box seat in the principal orchestra hall in Mexico City near the President of Mexico, and watching Elias take the stage, lift his baton, and give the downbeat for Tchaikovsky’s “Nutcracker”. I can also clearly remember living in a mansion with several servants, including a chauffeur, a gardener, a bodyguard, a cook and two young maids. Elias was the type of father who would come home from work, take off his suit jacket, and reveal a tiny Capuchin monkey tucked into his armpit. He would come home from the mercado with a parrot with violently colored feathers perched on his shoulder; this was typical.
In May of 1945, Elias was arrested and taken to jail as a political prisoner due to his gambling debts and being on the wrong side of the political process; he was sent to Las Islas de las Tres Marias (the equivalent of Devil’s Island), where his cellmate was Leon Trotsky’s assassin. I was ten years old when this happened, and did not see or hear from Elias for the next thirteen years.
My parents’ marriage ended at this time, and after Elias got out of jail, he married his third wife Lena Torres, with whom he had my half-sister Olga who deserves an extensive Wikipedia article herself and half brother Elias Junior also an complished violinist. While in prison, before he was pardoned by the president of Mexico, Elias wrote La Ciudad de los Muertos based upon his experiences in prison. This was very favorably received when he performed it at The Palacio de los Bellas Artes in Mexico City.
Elias, who never bothered to look about him when he was crossing the street, was hit by a car, and his hip was broken. The hip was replaced, but he broke it again, and decided that his deteriorating body could no longer house his strong spirit. He died in his sleep of pneumonia on Friday May 9, 1969, at the age of 73. He is survived by legends and his story is carried into the generations. This information is respectfully submitted.
In the 1940s he moved to Mexico and became an exclusive artist of the XEB radio station in Mexico City, the oldest in the country ([1]) composed scores for the Cinema of Mexico including the Cantinflas film Ni sangre, ni arena. He had a daughter there who became a famous entertainer and violinist herself, Olga Breeskin.
