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Authors: Harold Schechter
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“It was then that an intense desire took possession of my childish fancy, some day to become a singer,” Blanche would record in her memoirs. 4 The dream was not entirely unrealistic. Blanche was blessed with a lovely voice. Her little friend Louise—under her married name, Louise Homer—would herself grow up to be one of the great operatic contraltos of the early twentieth century.
Following his family’s sojourn in the Midwest, the footloose James moved them to the South, where they lived for a time in Louisville, Kentucky. Then it was on to a rambling old house in North Carolina. Blanche would always remember the lush, tangled flower garden, “growing and blooming in riotous disorder, with a sun dial and purple and white wisteria climbing over an old porch and wall.” 5 She formed a close friendship with the little girl down the road, the daughter of the former governor of the state, who lived in an “old and stately mansion” that had been used as a makeshift hospital in the waning days of the Civil War. Once, Blanche’s little friend lifted a rug and showed her the bloodstains of the dying Confederate soldiers, still visible on the oaken floors.
Their stay in North Carolina lasted only six months. When summer came, James took them to a cottage on Long Island Sound, so remote from the nearest village that the only noises to be heard were “the night song of the inarticulate creatures of grass and trees, the bark of a dog, or the call of a bird to its mate.”
By then, only Blanche and her younger sister, Lois, were still at home. Their brothers—Frank, John, and James, Jr.—were married and living in different parts of the country. The oldest of the three Chesebrough sisters, Izcennia (“Isia,” as Blanche always called her), had also recently wed. And she had done quite well for herself, landing as a husband Waldo Harrison Stearns, scion of a wealthy lumber family.
Toward the end of Blanche’s summer stay on rural Long Island, Izcennia came for a visit. A “proud and ambitious” woman (according to Blanche), Isia had already made up her mind to take her little sister under her wing. She would see to it that Blanche developed her talents, met the right people, and—most important—found a rich husband. Blanche was to come live with her in Boston, where Isia and Waldo would sponsor her musical studies.
In short order, Blanche was comfortably ensconced in Isia’s lavish Longwood home, enjoying “an atmosphere of affluence which developed in me a rather lofty idea of living.” 6 With Isia (or rather, Waldo) footing the bills, Blanche took private vocal lessons from the eminent George L. Osgood, director of the Emmanuel Church choir, the Boylston Club, and the Singers’ Society of Boston; learned to read music from a young piano instructor; studied French and Latin diction; and attended concerts of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, along with other musical events. By the time the following spring came around, after months of practicing scales and doing endless breathing exercises, she was finally prepared to essay her first aria for the demanding Mr. Osgood—Gluck’s “
Che farò senza Euridice.
” She would remember the thrill of that moment for the rest of her life.
She would also remember—even more intensely—another experience that happened to her a short time later. It was the last week in June, “the day before school closed for the summer.” Even as an old woman, the moment would remain vivid in her mind:
On the way home that afternoon, I cut across a little park where there were spots of dim shadowy shelter from the sun. A few benches were scattered here and there, and some ducks were floating around on a pool nearby. I was hot and tired and sat down on one of the benches to rest. I laid my books down beside me, took off my hat and fanned myself.
Across from me in the shadow of the trees were a boy and girl. They were both much older than I. I remember them as being
“It was then that an intense desire took possession of my childish fancy, some day to become a singer,” Blanche would record in her memoirs. 4 The dream was not entirely unrealistic. Blanche was blessed with a lovely voice. Her little friend Louise—under her married name, Louise Homer—would herself grow up to be one of the great operatic contraltos of the early twentieth century.
Following his family’s sojourn in the Midwest, the footloose James moved them to the South, where they lived for a time in Louisville, Kentucky. Then it was on to a rambling old house in North Carolina. Blanche would always remember the lush, tangled flower garden, “growing and blooming in riotous disorder, with a sun dial and purple and white wisteria climbing over an old porch and wall.” 5 She formed a close friendship with the little girl down the road, the daughter of the former governor of the state, who lived in an “old and stately mansion” that had been used as a makeshift hospital in the waning days of the Civil War. Once, Blanche’s little friend lifted a rug and showed her the bloodstains of the dying Confederate soldiers, still visible on the oaken floors.
Their stay in North Carolina lasted only six months. When summer came, James took them to a cottage on Long Island Sound, so remote from the nearest village that the only noises to be heard were “the night song of the inarticulate creatures of grass and trees, the bark of a dog, or the call of a bird to its mate.”
By then, only Blanche and her younger sister, Lois, were still at home. Their brothers—Frank, John, and James, Jr.—were married and living in different parts of the country. The oldest of the three Chesebrough sisters, Izcennia (“Isia,” as Blanche always called her), had also recently wed. And she had done quite well for herself, landing as a husband Waldo Harrison Stearns, scion of a wealthy lumber family.
Toward the end of Blanche’s summer stay on rural Long Island, Izcennia came for a visit. A “proud and ambitious” woman (according to Blanche), Isia had already made up her mind to take her little sister under her wing. She would see to it that Blanche developed her talents, met the right people, and—most important—found a rich husband. Blanche was to come live with her in Boston, where Isia and Waldo would sponsor her musical studies.
In short order, Blanche was comfortably ensconced in Isia’s lavish Longwood home, enjoying “an atmosphere of affluence which developed in me a rather lofty idea of living.” 6 With Isia (or rather, Waldo) footing the bills, Blanche took private vocal lessons from the eminent George L. Osgood, director of the Emmanuel Church choir, the Boylston Club, and the Singers’ Society of Boston; learned to read music from a young piano instructor; studied French and Latin diction; and attended concerts of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, along with other musical events. By the time the following spring came around, after months of practicing scales and doing endless breathing exercises, she was finally prepared to essay her first aria for the demanding Mr. Osgood—Gluck’s “
Che farò senza Euridice.
” She would remember the thrill of that moment for the rest of her life.
She would also remember—even more intensely—another experience that happened to her a short time later. It was the last week in June, “the day before school closed for the summer.” Even as an old woman, the moment would remain vivid in her mind:
On the way home that afternoon, I cut across a little park where there were spots of dim shadowy shelter from the sun. A few benches were scattered here and there, and some ducks were floating around on a pool nearby. I was hot and tired and sat down on one of the benches to rest. I laid my books down beside me, took off my hat and fanned myself.
Across from me in the shadow of the trees were a boy and girl. They were both much older than I. I remember them as being