Menuhin at Shemya

J. Richard Johnston 1915-2014

(Editor’s note: Since this blog entry was written, Rich passed away on September 6, 2014.)

Menuhin at the dinner table in Shemya

We’d like to give the honor of this website’s first blog posting to Deb’s father, J. Richard Johnston (“Rich”), left.  The time is ripe for two reasons:  first is Deb’s upcoming recital and musical ambassadorship to Dutch Harbor in the Aleutian Islands, not too far from the place where this all happened.  Second is Rich’s birthday next week when he will achieve the magnificent age of 97.    Here’s what he wrote a few days ago, when asked to put pen to paper, accompanied by some of the pictures he took:

My first tour of duty as a newly-commissioned Navy ensign in World War II was on the tiny island of Shemya in the Aleutian Islands.  One afternoon, in November, 1943, Yehudi Menuhin, the world-renowned violinist, accompanied by his pianist, suddenly arrived at Shemya in our midst.

Menuhin playing for the assembled troops in a Shemya quonset hut.

Sent by the USO (“United Service Organization”), he had been scheduled to play for the Army and Navy troops stationed on the island of Attu, the western-most island in the Aleutian chain.  The Navy pilot elected, instead, to land at Shemya because, as usual, it was snowing and the little island of Shemya, just a few miles east of Attu, was flat, while the runway at Attu had a 3,000 foot mountain at the north end of the runway.

The Navy unit at Shemya was tiny, consisting of perhaps only 20 or 30 personnel, while the Army had some 3,000 troops on the island.  But the Army didn’t welcome Menuhin, allegedly because the commanding officer was anti-Semitic, so Menuhin was our guest for dinner at the officers mess.  (One of our Navy cooks, a professional cook in civilian life, had sculpted a large ice centerpiece for the occasion.)

When the dinner was over, we all trooped down to a large Quonset hut, where the piano was in place.  I felt sure that it would be out of tune, because it hadn’t been tuned since it arrived by ship from Seattle.  When the pianist struck the first chord, it was clear that it was hopelessly out of tune.

Menuhin between pulpit and pinball machine, playing for the troops

But Menuhin and his pianist didn’t even hesitate.  At one point, when Yehudi stopped to tune his violin, he commented, “This is purely a formality,” but he continued to play (accompanied by the out-of-tune piano) until the end of the evening.

It was an evening that remains etched in my mind.

J. Richard Johnston