THE LATE WALTER FULLER

Evening Star, Issue 21749, 18 June 1934, Page 12

THE LATE WALTER FULLER

[By L. D. Austin.] 1 It is always a severe shock when death claims unexpectedly one whom we have known oven slightly; in the case of life-long friends and associates the abrupt severance of personal and business contact is doubly numbing and keen. The painfully sudden passing, at Wellington, last week of Mr Walter Fuller, eldest of the three brothers who have done so much for theatrical entertainment in New Zealand, illustrates once again the precarious uncertainty of human existence. Whilst taking a cup of, afternoon tea with a neighbour, Mr Fuller collapsed and immediately expired. There were no previous symptoms of ill-health; indeed, when I met him a few days before the sad event he appeared more than usually bright and well, and only two or three weeks ago he occupied his customary chair among the viola players of the Wellington Symphony Orchestra, of which body he had for years been a valued member. Walter Fuller epitomised within himself the main characteristic of the Fuller family—viz., the knack of seeming to “ give the public what it wants,” whilst’ disclaiming all responsibility for, and declining- to he identified with, the shortcomings of public taste. This trait showed itself pronouncedly lately in Sir Benjamin Fuller’s expressed determination to establish a permanent Australian Grand Opera Company. Though the Fuller firm has been long known as the principal sponsor of vaudeville enterprise in these regions, yet, in its heart of hearts, it has secretly cherished an idealistic ambition; outwardly hardheaded men of business, the Fullers have an inward musical grace that redeems them from the reproach of gross commercialism. Long ago I alluded to this dual personality in Walter Fuller. He led a sort of Jekyll and' Hyde existence in this connection, indeed, for his. somewhat brusque and quizzical exterior was but the everyday mask that served to conceal a soul of artistic gold, and sometimes it would almost seem to have been his deliberate intention to deceive his circle of acquaintances on this point. I had known him for some years before discovering where his real bent lay, and now that he is gone I should like to pay a tribute to his immense services in the direction of raising the standard of music in cinema theatres, more especially during the reign of the silent film and its orchestral accompaniment. Those who remember the days when Walter Fuller was manager of picture houses in Christchurch may recall the excellence of the music therein. Particularly was this true whilst he had charge of the old Colosseum at Christchurch, where a splendid orchestra night after night discoursed the kind of musical fare which we are now accustomed to hear from our leading symphonic organisations. True, that music did not always “ fit ” the pictures; more than once have I witnessed a funeral procession on the screen what time the orchestra played away for dear _ life at some rapid and exhilarating piece. But in those days audiences were not very critical; the pictures were then still a novelty, and patrons worried little about the orchestral accompaniment. Least of all worried the manager as he absorbed the melodious strains he loved, for to Walter Fuller good music was the very acme of life, anc] it was largely due to his influence that when, in later years, I became a conductor under the Fuller aegis our orchestral library boasted a richness and scope hitherto undreamed of by the average “ picture ” musician. Walter Fuller was a very reserved man, who made few intimate friends. Those who had the privilege of knowing him in his habit as he lived were, however, frequently surprised by the unsuspected width of his reading and the wealth of his natural culture. Though entirely what is termed a selfmade man, there was nothing of the bourgeois in his artistic -tastes. Musically his leanings were completely aristocratic, and he would have nothing to say to any type of composition lower than the highest. Moreover, he excelled as an executant, being a most capable performer on organ, piano, violin, and viola. This revelation always astonished the hearer who previously had met Mr Fuller only in his business capacity; for he played the role of shrewd, prosaic commercial man as well as he played his beloved musical instruments. The business side of him was the more obvious and common, and it wholly disguised the man whose innermost soul was so profoundly movable by concord of sweet sounds. Walter Fuller’s passing has left a gap in. our musical life not easily filled, but he will not be forgotten by any whom ho favoured with his friendship. Vale, frater!