Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer’s For a Look or a Touch is a vital torch of remembrance. Through the dreamlike reunion of characters Gad and Beck,
the opera unearths the buried memories of an entire generation tethered together in survival and shame. From 1871 through 1994, Paragraph 175 in the German Penal Code
declared homosexuals as criminals. During the Holocaust, thousands of gay men were herded to concentration camps and punished in horrendous fashion.
After the war, while the world celebrated, for the gay men of Germany, freedom only meant decades of silence in a country still blaring with homophobia.
Learning the deeper impact of Paragraph 175 has been enlightening, with the dissonance in the homosexual experience before and during World War II particularly
sticking in my mind. Gay culture flourished in pre-Nazi Germany — some estimate there were more gay bars and periodicals in 1920 Berlin than in 1980 New York—
but progress was halted as Nazi raids grew frequent. After being arrested and sent to concentration camps, gays were marginalized and assaulted by German soldiers and
fellow prisoners alike, a unique blend of social and militaristic trauma. Those who survived the camps suffered and internalized the shock of being told to keep quiet
by the ones they loved most. These victims carried a weight of guilt on behalf of all those denied a second chance at life, and were left dreaming for the community and
support they once knew. The story of gays in the Holocaust is not simply that of a grim period in history; it is also the story of a fading generation slowly
reconciling its past.
Like any marginalized group, gay men have often grown nimble at finding new methods of survival and strength. Gay artists have wielded significant influence over the
progression of popular culture, a role well suited for a group of people stuck on the outside peering in. Resurrecting an experience for the sake of remembrance is an
active form of protest against future atrocities, but doing so with craft, hope and grace also can make for great art. In For a Look or a Touch,
Jake Heggie’s soaring music and Gene Scheer’s compact libretto stir ghosts to life, creating a haunting ritual shared by those living and dead.
We’ve come far over the decades since the Second World War, but further progress awaits. The moving “It Gets Better” video campaign was inspired
by the death of rural teenagers. While President Obama has declared the Defense of Marriage Act unconstitutional in the United States, homosexuality is still punishable
by death in many countries. Those that fight for change, like David Kato in Uganda, may not live to see the impact of their life’s work.
Today, struggle and hope continue to exist side by side, and through this balance a painful progress unfolds.
For a Look or a Touch is an honest piece —sculpted from real events and diary entries— and therefore is not without sadness.
But, woven into the fabric of this struggle, is hope. As memories of this tragedy are allowed to grow stronger, so will the fight for a better tomorrow.
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In 2006, composer Jake Heggie was asked by Seattle non-profit Music of Remembrance to create a short theatrical work commemorating the persecution of homosexuals during
the Holocaust. The libretto, by Gene Scheer, is based on stories from the documentary film Paragraph 175, and the journal of Manfred Lewin from the
U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, DC.
The original operatic production For a Look or a Touch featured a baritone, an actor, and a quintet of instruments (flute, clarinet, violin, cello, and piano).
The piece premiered in Seattle in May 2007, and has now been expanded/rewritten to include a men’s chorus.
The piece features two major characters. The first is the ghost of Manfred Lewin, murdered by the Nazis in 1942. This part was sung during its premiere by operatic baritone
by Morgan Smith, who will be returning to reprise the role with Seattle Men’s Chorus.
The second (non-singing) role played by David Pichette is Gad Beck, Manfred’s lover, who managed to survive the War and is now elderly.
One night Manfred visits Gad to help him remember their love and time together; they share memories, and relate what happened to each of them in the camps.
In the end, Gad not only remembers, but embraces those memories.
Mr. Heggie states that while researching for this work, he looked for poetry or stories from the time of WWII about the subject of homosexuality before and during the Holocaust,
but found almost nothing. Baffled, he looked to more recent sources and was deeply upset to discover the reason there was very little material available from more recent
times as well — homosexuality was against the law in Germany until 1970. Even after the camps were closed, gays were considered criminals.
After the war, they hid, married, fled, or blended in… through silence. The literary and art world began breaking this silence in the late 1970s (Martin Sherman’s 1979
play Bent, for example). But even in 2005, when the European Parliament drafted a resolution regarding the Holocaust, any mention of the persecution of gays was removed.
With this new, engrossing work of art, Seattle Men’s Chorus hopes to expose an historical travesty committed against a minority population, revealing a largely
heretofore invisible horror. We present it to the public in order to strengthen our conviction against future atrocities of this kind, and to heal those still suffering
persecuted hearts through the simple, yet political act of remembrance. The overarching project seeks to echo the character Manfred’s phrase
“Do you remember?” that establishes the tone and recurring theme of the piece.
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The persecution of gays during the Holocaust is not a topic that is much recognized or discussed. So Mina Miller [of Music of Remembrance, ed.] decided to
take it on in a powerful and meaningful way: through music. When she called and asked me to create a new chamber composition based on this subject,
I was deeply moved, excited and hugely challenged. How on earth could we find a way to do honor and justice to this subject? To recognize the suffering of so many
in a 35-minute piece of music? The easy part was saying “yes.” The hard part came next: the fascinating and moving journey of discovery.
As an opera composer —a theater man— I told Mina I’d want to include a singer and find a narrative of some kind. She was very excited about this.
I looked for poetry or stories from the time of WWII about this subject, but found nothing. Baffled, I looked to more recent sources and was deeply upset to
discover the reason why there was no material from the actual time: homosexuality was against the law in Germany until 1970. Even after the camps were closed and
the war was over, gays were considered criminals. So after the war, they went into hiding or got married, fled, or just tried to blend in. Silence.
The literary and art world began breaking this silence in the late 1970s (Martin Sherman’s 1979 play Bent, for example).
But even in 2005, when the European Parliament —the elected parliamentary body of the European Union— drafted a resolution regarding the Holocaust,
any mention of the persecution of gays was removed.
In my research, I went to the U.S. Holocaust Museum, read books about the subject, and eventually came across the extraordinary documentary film, Paragraph 175,
by Robert Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman. The film includes testimony from several gay men who were survivors of the camps. Here they are in their 70s, 80s and 90s,
telling stories they never thought they’d be able to tell. Remarkable human stories: surprising, tragic, funny, hateful, shocking. I knew I wanted to use these
stories, but didn’t quite know how it would happen. During this time, Mina Miller also sent me a link to the Holocaust Museum website that featured the journal
of Manfred Lewin, a gay jew who was murdered at Auschwitz with his entire family.
That’s when I realized I needed a librettist to help put this all together. The elements were there, just not the story.
I had just worked with Gene Scheer on a new song cycle, and we were planning to write an opera together, so I asked him if he’d be interested.
He was eager to do so. Gene is a tremendously gifted man, a songwriter as well as a librettist and lyricist. I shared with him the film Paragraph 175 and
the books I’d found. He found books I didn’t know about, and Manfred Lewin’s journal, too. He was so excited when he read some of Manfred’s
beautiful poetry, he called me right away.
The journal was written for Gad Beck, who has written an autobiography and is one of the storytellers in Paragraph 175. Manfred and Gad were lovers as
teenagers in Berlin until Manfred and his family were taken. Gad Beck is still alive today. In their love affair, we found the seeds of our story.
We came up with the idea of an actor to play Gad in the present day, while the baritone would sing the role of Manfred. He would appear to Gad as a ghost one night.
And through the two of them, we’d be able to share the stories from Paragraph 175 and the poetry of Manfred’s journal.
Mina was the one to introduce me to the gifted, young baritone Morgan Smith. And it was Morgan who suggested Julian Patrick to play the role of Gad.
A wonderful series of connections. I chose the instruments in the ensemble because I wanted a variety of color so that I could include elements of jazz and swing,
lyrical as well as the gritty instrumentation, and the percussive possibilities of the piano, including using the inside of the piano.
It is Manfred’s phrase “Do you remember?” that established the tone of the piece for me. In our story, Gad wants only to forget the horrors
he lived through; Manfred, as a ghost, wants only to be remembered, and he wants Gad to remember their powerful, timeless love. There is a play between past and present.
Musically, that was filled with rich possibilities. I found a tune for “Do you remember?” that served as the anchor of the piece.
Most of the other material in the piece is connected to that tune. For a Look or a Touch was completed in March 2007.
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