Victor Herbert is one of the giants of American culture. As a musician, conductor, and, above all, composer, he touched every corner of American musical life at the turn of the century, writing scores of songs, marches, concerti, and other works. But his most enduring legacy is on a different kind of stage, as one of the grandfathers of the modern musical theater. Now, Victor Herbert has the biography he deserves. Neil Gould draws on his own experience as a director, producer, and scholar to craft the first comprehensive portrait in fifty years of the Irish immigrant whose extraordinary talents defined the sounds of a generation and made contemporary American music possible. Mining a wealth of sources--many for the first time--Gould provides a fascinating portrait of Herbert and his world. Born in Dublin in 1859, Herbert arrived in the United States in 1886. From his first job in the orchestra pit of the Metropolitan Opera, Herbert went on to perform in countless festivals and concerts, and conduct the Pittsburgh Orchestra. In 1894, he composed his first operetta, Prince Ananias, and by the time of his death in 1924, he'd composed forty-two more--many of them, such as Naughty Marietta, spectacular Broadway hits. Along the way, he also wrote two operas, stage music for the Ziegfeld Follies, and the first full score for a motion picture, The Fall of a Nation. Gould brilliantly blends the musical and the theatrical, classical and popular, the public and the private, in this book. He not only gives a revealing portrait of Herbert the artist, entrepreneur, and visionary, but also recreates the vibrant world of the Herbert's Broadway. Gould takes us inside the music itself--with detailed guides to each major work and recreations of great performances. He also makes strong connections between Herbert's breakthrough compositions, such as the operetta Mlle. Modiste, and the later contributions of Rudolf Friml, Sigmund Romberg, Jerome Kern and other giants of the musical theater. As exuberant as Herbert himself, this book is also a chronicle of American popular culture during one of its most creative periods. For anyone enraptured by the sound of the American musical, this book is delightfully required reading.

One autumn night in the eighties a young Irishman of twenty-seven, who had passed most of his life in Germany, took his place in the orchestra pit of the Metropolitan Opera House to play the cello. His name was Victor Herbert. He had just arrived in New York, and from his obscure seat he looked around curiously at the mass of faces glowing weirdly in the vast, dim auditorium. He felt a symbolic force in the crowding immensity of the place, in the numerous dazzling points of light that leaped back from the precious stones on the hands and breasts of the women who sat in the two great curving tiers of boxes. What future was he to have in this land? The conductor emerged from the depths beneath the stage to his eminence on the podium. Applause rolled over the heads of the musicians below him. He raised his baton and the opera began. Twenty-five years later, the same immigrant heard from the stage of the same theatre the performance of an opera he himself had written. Similar rolls of applause came from the audience, but this time not to pass over his head in the pit. The acclaim was for him, a tribute to his artistry. Thus, in the romantic fashion, may be outlined the beginning and the climax of the career of the most popular composer of light opera to be developed in the American theatre. And of one of the most beloved figures who ever made the rounds of Broadway.

From the foreword, written by Herbert's daughter, Ella Herbert Bartlett: "After years of inexhaustible and painstaking research, Mr. Waters has given us the most complete, factual, and honest history of Father's work that one could compile. He has brought out facets of Father's life which will come as a surprise to many, and he has interspersed his facts with interesting anecdotes which give glimpses of Father's human side as well. Mr. Waters states his facts as he has found them, and has drawn his conclusions fairly and candidly. I do not agree with his evaluations in every instance, nor do I think every reader will, for that which is best in music, as in all forms of art, depends so much upon personal tastes and even on the circumstances under which one first hears or sees the piece in question. But none of us will quarrel seriously with Mr. Waters on this point; on the contrary, we owe him a debt of gratitude for reminding us of some of Father's great melodies which have, for the moment, escaped our memory."