Norman Rosenberg – The Musician’s Expert

He once told me in an interview for The Strad, ‘As a provincial schoolboy in the 1930s, my main connections with the violin world were the Liverpool Philharmonic and three violin shops, including Rushworth and Dreaper, where I bought The Strad with sixpence from my pocket money. In those days The Strad had a service called ‘Answers to Correspondents’. I wrote asking about a maker and received a most helpful reply. So, when I came to London some years later, not knowing anyone, one of my first ports of call was The Strad office.’ The story encapsulates Norman – curiosity (bordering on obsession) and a love of good chat. (And a loyalty to The Strad magazine – he placed a small advert in the back pages of The Strad throughout his career.)

Maureen Smith, Professor of Violin at the Royal Academy of Music, got to know Norman when she was a student looking for a violin. She says, ‘He was completely passionate about violins – he could talk about them forever. There was no time limit when you went for a visit. He was in his element talking about violins and telling stories about the great violinists. He’d heard most of them live and knew the sorts of sound they made. He knew everything there was to know about violins and their history.’

Fisher tells a similar story: ‘He told me that he once went to an auction house and there was an instrument with a bass-bar crack, which had an important certificate. He said, “That’s not a so-and-so. Go to this 1931 catalogue, and you’ll see it’s a twin of that instrument.” They opened the catalogue, found it and agreed.’

This keen sense meant that he had to be careful at auction viewings, though. Fisher explains: ‘He would walk down the instrument tables and stop at each one and have a look, but just for one or two seconds on each side. He said he couldn’t spend longer because if he pored over something, people would see, and he worried they might think it was a good one.’

In a business where deals are often made (and unmade) by alliances, Rosenberg stayed outside the game, by choice, and looked askance at some of the more nefarious practices. Fisher remembers, ‘He told me that years before he had found a sleeper in an auction room and bid up to the level where he bought it. This market price was a lot higher than the other dealers who were bidding together would have gone to. Some time afterwards, he was approached to join that group and he turned them down flatly. He didn’t want to be involved in the “ring”, as he called it.’

From then on, he would often visit Norman, with Rosenberg’s wife Rosella bringing in tea and biscuits to provide sustenance. ‘Visits would last for some time. He seemed to be very interested in knowing what was going on in the profession and he used to like hearing me play his violins. It wasn’t a simple transaction where I would arrive and within five minutes, I was playing on his good violins, but over one or two hours, he would bring them out.’

Rosenberg was usually generous in lending his instruments to students and up-and-coming players, but he was notoriously reluctant to sell them. Smith explains, ‘They were his family, and he wanted to hang on to them for dear life. He wasn’t really a dealer – he was a collector. He couldn’t see the point of selling. He said, “It’s just more money that I’ll get taxed on.” I wonder if he ever thought of it in monetary terms – that wasn’t really of interest to him.’

As an amateur player himself (he played in the Wembley Philharmonic Orchestra and led the Ben Uri Orchestra, as well as often playing chamber music with friends), Rosenberg had an excellent ear for sound – not always a given with violin dealers and collectors. Smith says, ‘All the violins he collected had a good sound. He never bought something just because it was a good investment. Even with the violins that are going on sale, there’ll be some very valuable ones, but the ones with lesser names will also have a good sound.’

Fisher agrees: ‘He always bought for sound. If he’d acquired something that was a good example of a maker’s work but didn’t work, he would sell it. The quality of sound was always paramount – he was a good fiddle player and knew how to get sound out of a violin.’

This love of sound came from listening to the greats. Fisher says, ‘He had a love for the old school violinists. He remembered the dates of their concerts, the repertoire, how the concerts went. He remembered a particular story about Fritz Kreisler staying with his uncle, and he used to chuckle that Kreisler didn’t practise the whole time of his stay.’