Fathering genius: Controlling dads dominated the lives of many musical legends

Mention the term "Stage Mother," and everyone knows what you mean: that relentlessly pushy mom who is determined to get her talented little darling into the spotlight, at all costs.

Look into history, however, and you'll see far more stage dads in the field of music, where the male-dominated society gave fathers considerably more to say than mothers about their children's careers — not always to the betterment of the children.

Mozart's father pushed his genius son on exhaustive journeys through the royal courts of Europe, profiting from the proceeds — but later cut his son out of his will because he couldn't dominate his adulthood. Beethoven's father whacked him on the head and ears when he made mistakes at keyboard practice. And Seattle composer Alan Hovhaness' parents disapproved of his youthful composing so strongly that he wrote music in secrecy, late at night.

Being the father of a musical child can be a mixed blessing: How do you know how hard to push, or whether to push the child at all? How do you know when you're urging a youngster toward the fulfillment of your own musical ambitions? Or, assuming you don't want the chancy career in the arts for your child, are you right to discourage your offspring from pursuing music?

Throughout history, various fathers have answered that question in various ways. Today, on Father's Day, we consider a few dads who left an indelible mark on their musical offspring — for better or for worse.

Here is perhaps the ultimate stage father: Leopold Mozart, a decently talented composer who saw in his preternaturally gifted son, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (born in 1756), the means to win money and fame, as well as settling old scores against those who had offended or overlooked Dad.

"Wolfgang's good fortune and success will be our sweetest revenge," Leopold wrote. In making his son the instrument of his own ambitions, Leopold took 7-year-old Wolfgang and his gifted pianist sister, 12-year-old Marianne (Nannerl), on a musical tour of several thousand miles and 88 cities across the continent. They were gone for three years, five months and 20 days, and both children were often so sick that they nearly died.

But Leopold was not merely a pushy father. He genuinely marveled at his son's gifts and trained him assiduously; there was real love and admiration between father and son. Moved to tears by an early composition of his 4-year-old genius son, he wept for joy again when Wolfgang spontaneously taught himself to play the violin at 6.

This made it all the harder for both, when Wolfgang began to grow up and assert his own independence. Horrified at his son's choice of a wife — the unexceptional Constanze Weber — Leopold continued to try to dominate the young composer/performer, and never forgave him for wanting to go his own way. The surviving letters from father to son are full of bitter reproach. When Leopold died, five years after Wolfgang's marriage, Wolfgang found he had been written out of his father's will — despite the fact that he had been the family breadwinner for most of his young life. Leopold left everything to Nannerl, even some of Wolfgang's own original scores.

Here's the spookiest part: A few years before his death, Leopold took Nannerl's little son, who also was named Leopold, away from his mother to raise him himself, in an attempt to produce another little Mozart. Needless to say, it didn't work; the elder Leopold didn't live long enough, and the grandson Leopold was no Mozart.

One tantalizing question: If it hadn't been for Leopold, would we even know Mozart's name? The father unquestionably advanced the son's fame in his continuing attempts at promoting the young genius, but Wolfgang's enormous talent and his own personal drive must also have earned him renown. Nannerl wrote that as a young child, her brother would compose for three hours every morning (sometimes in bed), and would sit down at the keyboard every evening, when he had to be dragged away at midnight — otherwise he might stay up all night playing.

By all accounts, he was a happy child who loved being a prodigy and adored the applause as a celebrity. The difficulties came later, when Wolfgang discovered he could not earn his freedom without sacrificing his relationship with his father.

Ludwig van Beethoven's father, a man of modest musical talents, saw himself as another Leopold Mozart, and he wanted to raise another Wolfgang. Although he could not match Mozart's precocious genius, young Ludwig (born in 1770) nonetheless displayed some spectacular youthful talent, mastering the piano, organ and violin at an early age and making public performances at 6.

By all accounts a boorish man and an alcoholic, the senior Beethoven forced his young son to practice many hours a day. Mistakes were rewarded by beatings, including blows to the head and "boxing" the ears (a practice that might have contributed to Beethoven's later deafness, according to some historians). The father's death when Beethoven was 18 (not long after his mother's death) left the young composer/performer in charge of his two younger brothers — but also allowed him to choose his own destiny.

Fortunately, the eminent composer Haydn befriended him, and Beethoven's studies with Haydn proved very fruitful. (No ear-boxing, either.) Maybe Haydn was extra sympathetic because his own early years hadn't always been easy: Following a stint as a boy chorister in the St. Stephen's Cathedral choir of Vienna, he had some precarious years on his own as a free-lance teenage musician after his voice broke.

Forbidding dads

Not all the influential fathers of famous musicians were stage dads. Some pushed their children hard in other directions, at least for a time.

Franz Peter Schubert was born into a musical family in 1797, and his early studies with his father and older brothers were apparently congenial. His musical gifts were recognized early, when he entered a school for boy sopranos that trained singers for the imperial court (as Haydn had done). One of his youthful compositions came to the attention of Antonio Salieri (depicted as Mozart's envious archrival in the movie "Amadeus"), who hailed Schubert as a young genius.

Then his voice broke, and Schubert's fortunes changed. Puny and nearsighted, he returned to live with his father, who demanded that he follow in his footsteps and become a schoolteacher. Schubert complied, though he hated the work and was miserable in the job. He taught during the day and wrote by night, amassing more than 100 compositions before he was 20. Finally, he stood up to his father, quit teaching school and devoted himself to music. Unfortunately he hadn't long to live: This gifted melodist was dead at 31.

Hector Berlioz, the composer of the famous "Symphonie Fantastique," had an early life that was far from fantastique. Born in France in 1803, he had a very sketchy musical education, and as an adult was able to play only the guitar and the flute. Nonetheless he proved a master at orchestration, and began composing at 14.

His father was not impressed. He wanted young Hector to study medicine, and sent him off to Paris for medical studies, a prospect that horrified the sensitive young composer. When he abandoned the field of medicine, his father cut him off from all financial support.

Born in 1911, the late Seattle-based composer Alan Hovhaness grew up in a household of disapproving parents who did not wish him to become a composer. Beginning at age 4, he wrote music by night, and later said he was "a secret composer all through my teens. My family thought writing music was abnormal, so they would confiscate my music if they caught me in the act. I used to compose in the bathroom and hide the manuscripts under the bathtub."

His nocturnal habits led to a lifelong practice of composing by night, pausing in his labors when the sun came up, then closing his scores and heading for bed. The early disapproval, Hovhaness thought, also might have contributed to his lifelong self-criticism: As an adult, he destroyed an estimated 1,000 pieces of his early music that he felt were substandard.

Supportive dads

Some families got it right. Such an abundance of talent flowed through the veins of the Bach family that the name became a sort of professional appellation: All musicians in the area (the German district of Thuringia) were simply called "Bachs." The sons all studied with their fathers and other family members; four sons of Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), the greatest of all the Bachs, became notable composers in their own right.

Benjamin Britten (1913-1976) grew up with a father who was a prosperous oral surgeon, and his mother was prominent in the local choral society. When their young son demonstrated musical gifts, both were delighted, and they engaged the composer Frank Bridge to teach young Benjamin. Years later, he composed "Variations on a Theme by Frank Bridge," in tribute to his beloved early teacher.

Frederic Chopin (1810-1849) showed astonishing talent very early, publishing his first little pieces at 7 and performing in aristocratic salons. His father, a French teacher, saw to it that young Frederic got the best training available locally, at the Warsaw Conservatoire.

Like Richard Strauss and many other composers, Luigi Boccherini grew up in a musical household where his first lessons were with his father, a bass player, who taught him how to play the cello and encouraged him in both performance and composition.

Melinda Bargreen: mbargreen@seattletimes.com