The Mysterious Mr. Culshaw

[Conchis]

Every now and then I have a great urge to discover more about John Culshaw - but the clever old so-and-so seemed to cover his tracks very effectively and no-one seems to have known him well (no-one still alive at any rate).

A few years ago he was posthumously outed by the gossip columnist Norman Lebrecht and someone mischievously tinkered with his Wikepedia entry to suggest he had been the first victim of the AIDS virus, before it had been properly named or diagnosed.

I think his cause of death was more likely to have been biohepatitis; and - an extraordinary statement by the man-eating diva Regine Crespin apart ('I adored John Culshaw, but he only liked snakes') - there's nothing to suggest he took either (or any) bus, apart from the over-fastidious personality revealed by his prose style (Ring Resounding and the unfinished Putting The Record Straight are essential reading; I've not been able to pick up either off is novels, which go for big bucks these days).

I am a fan of his production style - it may be unfashionable nowadays but, for me, it will always epitomise Decca's buccaneering years, when the company was breaking new ground and establishing the reputation it still enjoys today (though it's no longer a company, of course). Some have accused Culshaw of claiming a larger share of the credit for this than he warranted but I don't think he did - his criticism of the likes of Maurice Rosengarten have elicited wearingly predictable accusations of anti-semitism. His anecdotes about refusing to carry Karajan's fur coat when the latter flung it at him as if he were just another flunkey (thereby determining the course of their professional relationship) is a great story; his tale of how Josef Krips ruined the career of a young Decca staff producer is a horribly cautionary tale.

I wonder if anyone on here actually met Mr. Culshaw at any point?

[Richard Tarleton]

It was actually Gordon Parry, the senior engineer, who declined to carry Karajan's coat (p. 200)

Culshaw had an interesting wartime career (described in the book), flying Fairey Swordfish against German E-boats towards the end of the war. These were remarkable biplanes - known as the Stringbag, made largely of wood and cloth, they took part in many important WW2 actions, including sinking the Bismarck and taking the Italian navy out of the war at Taranto. The men who flew these aircraft were exceptional.

[LeMartinPecheur]

It was actually George Parry, the senior engineer, who declined to carry Karajan's coat (p. 200)

Culshaw had an interesting wartime career (described in the book), flying Fairey Swordfish against German E-boats towards the end of the war. These were remarkable biplanes - known as the Stringbag, made largely of wood and cloth, they took part in many important WW2 actions, including sinking the Bismarck and taking the Italian navy out of the war at Taranto. The men who flew these aircraft were exceptional.

Allegedly, the German navy's AA guns couldn't cope with the Stringbag because their offsets for the speed of the target didn't go low enough!

If true, that might have been key to the eventual sinking of the Bismark because damage to its rudder from a Swordfish torpedo crippled it so that the RN battleships could catch it up.

[vinteuil]

... taking the Italian navy out of the war at Taranto.

... Tárrega watchers will of course know that it is Táranto - like many south Italian towns, accent on the first syllabub.



.

[Richard Tarleton]

... Tárrega watchers will of course know that it is Táranto - like many south Italian towns, accent on the first syllabub.



.

I didn't know, thank you

My godfather Ian Swayne flew in the first of the two waves of Swordfish at Táranto, from the deck of HMS Illustrious - they crippled or sank several Italian battleships, the pride of the Italian navy (the Littorio, Caio Duilio, Conte di Cavour, etc.) - there is a full account of the operation from conception to aftermath in David Wragg's very readable book "Swordfish". Sadly I never got to hear about it from him, as (having survived that) he was killed in a train crash in south London when I was very young. My mother's brother underwent similar training for the Fleet Air Arm to Culshaw, but was killed aged 19 while doing it - along with his instructor, in one of the aircraft Culshaw mentions, a Percival Proctor, which were notorious death traps.

PS I did see a Swordfish flying, in about 1964, at the Yeovilton Air Show.

[Ein Heldenleben]

Every now and then I have a great urge to discover more about John Culshaw - but the clever old so-and-so seemed to cover his tracks very effectively and no-one seems to have known him well (no-one still alive at any rate).

A few years ago he was posthumously outed by the gossip columnist Norman Lebrecht and someone mischievously tinkered with his Wikepedia entry to suggest he had been the first victim of the AIDS virus, before it had been properly named or diagnosed.

I think his cause of death was more likely to have been biohepatitis; and - an extraordinary statement by the man-eating diva Regine Crespin apart ('I adored John Culshaw, but he only liked snakes') - there's nothing to suggest he took either (or any) bus, apart from the over-fastidious personality revealed by his prose style (Ring Resounding and the unfinished Putting The Record Straight are essential reading; I've not been able to pick up either off is novels, which go for big bucks these days).

I am a fan of his production style - it may be unfashionable nowadays but, for me, it will always epitomise Decca's buccaneering years, when the company was breaking new ground and establishing the reputation it still enjoys today (though it's no longer a company, of course). Some have accused Culshaw of claiming a larger share of the credit for this than he warranted but I don't think he did - his criticism of the likes of Maurice Rosengarten have elicited wearingly predictable accusations of anti-semitism. His anecdotes about refusing to carry Karajan's fur coat when the latter flung it at him as if he were just another flunkey (thereby determining the course of their professional relationship) is a great story; his tale of how Josef Krips ruined the career of a young Decca staff producer is a horribly cautionary tale.

I wonder if anyone on here actually met Mr. Culshaw at any point?

I never met him but I did , initially without knowing it , go to a party at his former house in North London. I was looking around and saw all these mysterious objects which looked like small versions of old style semi- acoustic record players - the sort you see Nipper the Dog listening to on old EMI record labels . I looked a little closer and realised they were Gramophone Awards . There were a lot of them . I looked closer and thought blimey this is either John Culshaw's house or that of a relative who had inherited the awards - Mr Culshaw having died a few years previously . It turned out it was his old house and the charming owner was, though memory is a bit hazy here , a relative who was a horn player with the LPO . Culshaw's autobiography 'Putting The Record Straight ' is deliciously indiscreet and well worth reading.

[gradus]

Culshaw was a great recording producer possibly only rivalled by Walter Legge, although their achievements - astonishingly vivid recording techniques and production ideas on the one hand and an extraordinarily impressive roster of recordings by outstanding artists, not least his wife, on the other - suggests little in common when it came to producing recordings. The classical catalogue is deeply indebted to both of them but if I had to choose, it would be Culshaw who wins my vote.

[Richard Tarleton]

You could almost extract from the books a useful management textbook on how to manage a disparate bunch of powerful and often egotistical people and get things done - how to oil the wheels, when a bit of subterfuge helps, when to lighten the mood (Nilssson and the horse, Roland Berger and the French horn - actually that one went a bit wrong), concern and empathy for your people (I'm thinking of the Leontyne Price story).... I don't know much about Walter Legge except from hostile witnesses, but I'm not sure if anyone ever accused him of having a sense of humour? The Humphrey Burton "Golden Ring" documentary still provides a priceless insight into the man at work (in an age when everyone smoked ).

I've corrected a typo in my #2, the fur coat man was of course Gordon Parry

[Conchis]

Legge made great recordings but his assumption that stereo would be a 'flash in the pan' was one of the great mistakes of recording history - putting him on a level with the Decca executives who passed on the Beatles because 'groups with guitars are on the way out.'

Culshaw, though, was obviously executive material and a great talent scout (he recruited David Harvey, who became a sort of latter-day Culshaw at Decca).

[Darkbloom]

Legge had a reputation for being rather unpleasant but he surely produced more classic recordings over the years than Culshaw. But perhaps, after having the Ring on your CV, your reputation is already assured. Legge's (uncompleted) memoirs are worth a look, although they are nowhere near as entertaining as Culshaw's two books. His description of the raving lunatic Josef Krips still stays with me, and it's been years since I read it.

[TerryLewis]

Every now and then I have a great urge to discover more about John Culshaw - but the clever old so-and-so seemed to cover his tracks very effectively and no-one seems to have known him well (no-one still alive at any rate).

A few years ago he was posthumously outed by the gossip columnist Norman Lebrecht and someone mischievously tinkered with his Wikepedia entry to suggest he had been the first victim of the AIDS virus, before it had been properly named or diagnosed.

I think his cause of death was more likely to have been biohepatitis; and - an extraordinary statement by the man-eating diva Regine Crespin apart ('I adored John Culshaw, but he only liked snakes') - there's nothing to suggest he took either (or any) bus, apart from the over-fastidious personality revealed by his prose style (Ring Resounding and the unfinished Putting The Record Straight are essential reading; I've not been able to pick up either off is novels, which go for big bucks these days).

I am a fan of his production style - it may be unfashionable nowadays but, for me, it will always epitomise Decca's buccaneering years, when the company was breaking new ground and establishing the reputation it still enjoys today (though it's no longer a company, of course). Some have accused Culshaw of claiming a larger share of the credit for this than he warranted but I don't think he did - his criticism of the likes of Maurice Rosengarten have elicited wearingly predictable accusations of anti-semitism. His anecdotes about refusing to carry Karajan's fur coat when the latter flung it at him as if he were just another flunkey (thereby determining the course of their professional relationship) is a great story; his tale of how Josef Krips ruined the career of a young Decca staff producer is a horribly cautionary tale.

I wonder if anyone on here actually met Mr. Culshaw at any point?

Just ordered his autobiography. It should be indeed a worthy reading, because the man was completely obsessed with music. And that's what I particularly like about him.

[Conchis]

Legge had a reputation for being rather unpleasant but he surely produced more classic recordings over the years than Culshaw. But perhaps, after having the Ring on your CV, your reputation is already assured. Legge's (uncompleted) memoirs are worth a look, although they are nowhere near as entertaining as Culshaw's two books. His description of the raving lunatic Josef Krips still stays with me, and it's been years since I read it.

The chapter on Bjoerling is quite an eye-opener, too. This may be the most controversial aspect of PTRS as JB was still a much-beloved singer in 1980 and Brigit Nilsson took up arms (posthumously) against Culshaw for his account of the aborted Ballo recording, which she disputed.