Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

Carlos Maurice Montenegro

San Francisco, California

1942

From the moment Carlos began to play, Joseph Hoffman knew at once that the young man before him was one of the most extraordinarily gifted violinists he had ever heard. Hoffman immediately took him under his wing and in less than six months Carlos Montenegro had been named first violinist of the San Francisco Symphony.

Of the millions of musicians in the world, only a handful soar beyond what is written on the page, transcend what seems humanly possible, and Carlos was one such musician. His teacher knew that Carlos was destined to become one of the greats, perhaps to take his place beside Heifetz and Menuhin. All he needed was the right person to guide his career, and Joseph was it. If handled correctly, this boy could change the face of classical music. He had the looks of a matinee idol and the talent of an angel.

If there was one flaw it was that he was almost too pretty, and when he played most women could not take their eyes off him. Carlos had never talked about himself or where he was from, but as such a romantic figure there had been rumors that he was probably the son of a Spanish count. Many went home and dreamed of those beautiful hands and long, delicate fingers and the way the shadow of his eyelashes fell across his cheek. But there was something else that concerned his teacher. Without his violin, Carlos seemed unusually shy and unsure of himself. He seemed content to just play in the orchestra and to compose. But Hoffman was anxious to have such a talent exposed to the world, and took it upon himself to enter one of Carlos’s concertos in an international music competition held in Quebec.

He wanted the boy to realize his future, to build his confidence. The winner was assured of a year’s worth of concerts around the world. All he needed was this chance to tour. Then the boy would have the world at his feet. A month later, to Hoffman’s great joy and to Carlos’s great surprise, he won. But there was, shortly, another surprise waiting for Carlos.

SOCIETY SLANTS

by Ida Baily Chambless

There is exciting news today. It came to my attention by way of a little bird that last week’s happy headline “American Wins International Music Competition” should have read “American Negro Wins International Music Competition.” The celebrated recipient is none other than Theodore Karl Le Guarde, who has of late adopted the melodious nom de plume Carlos Maurice Montenegro, for “artistic” reasons, no doubt, for the name Le Guarde is a proud Negro name. His father is Dr. James A. Le Guarde, a prominent Negro doctor here in Washington for many years.

Despite Mr. Le Guarde’s stage name and his absence from our fair city, nothing could keep us from shouting from the highest rooftops that one of us is on his way to the big time. I want you to know that your columnist has been burning the midnight oil, and with much cajoling and powerful string pulling, it is with great glee and salutations to the world that I announce that Theodore Le Guarde, né Carlos Maurice Montenegro, has just been named “Negro of the Year” by this newspaper. We are proud of so many high achievers who share our Negro heritage, and I for one shall be awaiting his return to our fair city with a great big welcome home and where have you been? Move over Cab Calloway, Duke, Jelly Roll, and Louie and make room for a new genius on the block!

Ida Baily Chambless gloated in her triumph. Dr. Le Guarde’s precious, lily-white son was going to be a Negro whether he wanted to or not. She had known about Theo for some time, but she had waited for the right moment. Shrewdly, she knew it was much more damaging to kick people not when they were down, but when they were up.

When Theo’s photograph, along with her press release announcing that he had been named Negro of the Year, appeared in newspapers around the country, all hopes of a classical career went down the drain. His colleagues had been stunned by the news. Some had felt betrayed. Suddenly they saw him as someone who had pretended to be something he wasn’t, an imposter who had lied to them. Others were sympathetic and said that it didn’t make any difference to them but it did. It was still the 1940s in America, and many whites had never met a Negro other than a maid or a Pullman porter. Yesterday he had been the charming and incredibly beautiful young man of obviously aristocratic Spanish descent. Today he was something of an odd curiosity. They began looking for signs, hints of Negro blood, and began to see them, even when they weren’t there. Even the young woman who had been so in love with Theo the day before looked at him with different eyes today. She felt that she had been made a fool of. His father was probably nothing more than a yard man. He had tried to push his way into San Francisco society on false pretenses. He must have been secretly going back at night and laughing about her with his Negro friends.

Of course Theo had never said he was from a wealthy family, and society had sought him out, but facts changed along with attitudes. Hoffman was devastated for him, and went immediately to his apartment but found that Theo had locked the doors and would not let him in. He would speak to no one. The day after the article appeared Negro newspapers from all over the country sent photographers and reporters wanting interviews. Overnight, he was flooded with invitations from the leading Negro organizations wanting him to entertain and lend his name to every Negro cause and speak at every event. They were proud of him and, as the Washington Bee put it, “We rejoice in his victory and add a new star in the crown of Negro accomplishments.”

White newspapers took a different tack. The caption under his photograph read: NEGRO CAUGHT MISREPRESENTING ANCESTRY.

The International Music Committee reconvened for an emergency meeting and voted to a man to stand by its decision, but there was a war in Europe, most of Carlos’s concerts had been planned for America, and one by one they began to be canceled.

Dear Sirs,

We feel it would be best if Mr. Montenegro were to limit his concerts to halls that can accommodate members of his own race. Our present policy does not do so.

—Atlanta Philharmonic

Dear Sirs,

You have maliciously misled us as to the race of your winner and therefore our contract is null and void. Any attempts to perpetuate the fraud and embarrass our patrons shall be met with legal action.

—Chicago Music Club

After several weeks of similar telegrams and letters, and much pressure all around, this press release was sent:

The International Music Committee has reconvened for the second time and announced today that it has withdrawn its cash prize and canceled all concert dates of recent first-prize winner, Carlos Montenegro. A spokesman for the committee said this decision was made with deepest regrets and was not based on the fact that he is a Negro, but that he withheld that fact from the committee.

His sister Marguerite was working in New York. When she read about what had happened to Theo she immediately went to San Franciso. But by the time she arrived, he had disappeared into thin air.