RACHMANINOFF FOUNDATION In 1936, his skill even averted what could have been a
tragedy. In the classic biography by Bertensson and Leyda, Sergei Rachmaninoff: A Lifetime in Music, a friend of his called Alfred Swann recalls, “Rachmaninov was a great lover of motorboating and used to go out every day. He always steered himself. Often he went out alone. This hobby of his nearly proved fatal during that stay of ours. About an hour before dinner he said: ‘I think I shall go for a spin on the lake.’ He got up quietly. He did everything quietly and firmly; hesitation was alien to his nature. It was a lovely afternoon, one of those rare and bright afternoons in the Swiss mountains in May. We joined him. At the last minute, Mr Ibbs, Rachmaninov’s agent in England, asked permission to come along also. He was a corpulent man with a round, ruddy face.
“The lake was as still as a fishpond. Rachmaninov took the wheel, and we glided smoothly out of the boathouse on the lake. We were well out of sight of the house when Mr Ibbs asked if he could try his hand at the steering wheel. “Rachmaninov handed it over to him and joined us on the back bench. No sooner had he sat down than something very strange happened.
the house Rachmaninov touched his left side several times and frowned. When we were quite near the veranda, he said: ‘Don’t say anything to Natasha. She won’t let me go boating any more.’”
“Just as the heavy boat was about to capsize, Rachmaninov set it right and we glided back”
Evidently Mr Ibbs had decided to make a sharp turn. But, instead of turning, the boat began to spin and bend over to one side. We all slid across the back seat and watched Mr. Ibbs in dead silence. But when his face had turned as red as a beetroot, Rachmaninov got up quietly, as if he had merely given Mr Ibbs time to correct his mistake, reached the wheel with a few big strides, and pushed Mr Ibbs aside. The screw was already thumping loudly in the air, and the left rim of the boat was touching the water.
“Just as the heavy boat was about to capsize and bury us under it, Rachmaninov set it right and we glided back to the embankment of the Villa Senar. Nobody said a word. Silently we got out of the boat. On the way up to
The Rachmaninovs left their beloved Senar for the last time on 16 August 1939, unable to return because of the outbreak of war in Europe. Back in New York, Sergei began work on the Symphonic Dances (Op. 45), his dynamic last work. But he still loved motoring out from his summer home in Long Island Sound where he had a waterside studio. This time, he used a more sedate cabin cruiser, with a small cabin and galley. Given that coastal cruising required more knowledge, he often took a fully trained mariner along with him. For longer voyages, they took on provisions, so enabling him to spend the night on board and enjoy breakfast in the healthy sea air. During World War II, Senar, the motor boat he had left behind, was requisitioned by the Swiss military authorities. Armed with a machine gun and an anti-aircraft gun, it patrolled the shores of the Lake Lucerne. Over in the USA, Sergei gave numerous charitable performances,
donating large sums to the Allied cause. He fell ill during a concert tour in late 1942, and was diagnosed with advanced melanoma. His last recital, given in February 1943, prophetically featured Chopin’s Piano Sonata No 2 in B flat Minor, which contains the famous funeral march. He died on March 28 1943, just four days before his 70th birthday, in Beverly Hills, California, and was interred in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, New York. War over, the Swiss Army handed the boat back to
Sergei’s daughter Tatiana, her husband Boris Conus and their son Alexander. They continued to enjoy it during the summer holidays. Senar was sold in 1959 or 60 when the family took up mono-skiing: the faithful old boat was too heavy for this use and not fast enough.
CLASSIC BOAT MARCH 2012 63
Above: Sergei Rachmaninov aboard his Senar on Lake Lucerne
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