eldest brother, Louis Lupas (he studied in Italy and changed his name), was a portrait
artist. He did a series of portraits for two books about music and musicians. One of the
books was published in the 1953 under the title Great
Composers. I grew up with that book in our house and knew its contents well. I only
discovered recently (through the Internet) that he collaborated on a second book published
in 1933. That book is titled Artists in Music of
Today and was done with authors Helen L. Kaufmann and Eva vB. Hansl.
I obtained a used copy (it is long out
of print) and found the following biography and
autographed portrait of Walter Damrosch.
When Leopold Damrosch died, in 1885, he left to his three children, Clara, Frank, and Walter, whom he had brought to this country from Breslau, Germany, twelve years earlier, a triple legacy in music – enthusiasm for the operas of Wagner, which he had introduced that same year at the Metropolitan, the continuance of the work of the Oratorio Society, and the preservation of the New York Symphony Orchestra, which he had founded. His purpose, in all three enterprises, had been to take music to the people. "It has not yet touched the masses," he had said, "and I do not see how it can until we use the schools, the first step in
His children, regarding this legacy as a sacred trust, took up his work where he had laid it down. Frank, the eldest, and his sister Clara, brought music directly to the public schools, he in Denver and New York as music supervisor, and she by establishing with her husband, David Mannes, the first Music School Settlement for needy students. Frank also founded the Young People's concerts at Carnegie Hall, as well as the People's Choral Union, was Chorus Master at the Metropolitan, and Director of the Oratorio Society, alternating with his younger brother, Walter. Frank recently retired from his post as Dean of the Institute of Musical Art of the Juilliard School.
The second son, Walter, at the age of twenty-three fell heir to the Opera and the New York Symphony Orchestra, and took both with him on tours of the country extending to the musically untrodden hinterlands of the west and south. Having received the baton from his dying father's hand, he continued to wield it like a veritable St. George, breaking lances against the dragon, Wagner's enemies, until today, since there are no more adversaries to vanquish in this cause, he sighs for another composer to defend. He has upheld Brahms against the grumbling of contemporary critics; he champions Gershwin, Honegger, Deems Taylor, and other moderns.
In defiance of Blue Laws, he introduced Sunday afternoon concerts to give opportunities to people who had only this day free. He inaugurated, some thirty years ago, children's concerts at which his drolleries and his informal chats about music and musicians have shown successive generations of young Americans that music, to be good, need not be dull.
But it was not until the National Broadcasting Company placed him before the microphone and gave him time on the air to develop a Music Appreciation Hour that he actually used the schools, "the first step in education," as his father had hoped he might. Now, at the end of the fifth year of this work, broadcasting weekly Friday mornings and Saturday evenings, he has reached an audience of a size beyond all the dreams of his idealist parent,--an audience of seven millions, some of whom, in California, gather in the school-room at eight in the morning, to be greeted by the voice so well-known to all Young America, a voice benevolent, kindly, rolling a sonorous "Good-morning " with a German cadence.
–Artists in Music of Today, 1933