It's impossible to assess how many great artistes were amongst the casualties of the last war. We do know that Joseph Schmidt, who died at the very young age of 38, was amongst them.

Schmidt was born in Davideny, Buchavina, Rumania to a farming family and as sympathetic as his mother was to Joseph taking up music as a career, so was his father against it.

Because of the First World War he moved with his parents to Czernowitz where, at a very young age, he was appointed Chazan. It was also there, at the age of 20, that Joseph gave his first public performance as a concert singer.

When he was 24, his uncle, Leo Engel, who was a well-known manager, arranged for Joseph to appear in Berlin. He remained there for a while, for his great talent brought him a position as Cantor at the Adas Yisroel Synagogue.

As he established himself, so his concerts gradually took shape. They usually consisted of one half of Chazanut and the second of Neapolitan songs and operatic arias. He was an accomplished pianist and frequently accompanied himself.

It was unfortunate however, that a tenor voice of such brilliance and quality emanated from a frame that was under five feet tall. When the conductor Leo Blech first heard him sing, he was deeply moved: "Pity you aren't small," he said; "But I am small," Schmidt said. "No, you aren't small, you're too small," replied Blech.

Although his stature effectively barred him from opera, there were other outlets for his talents. He appeared in a number of films, he made records and he gave many performances on the radio.  In 1934 he managed to go to Palestine, where he gave a number of Chazanut concerts.

When the war broke out he managed to make his way to France where he settled in the unoccupied zone. When France was defeated he made his way to Switzerland where he arrived virtually penniless. Although he was in possession of an American visa and was very well known, he was interned as an illegal immigrant. Sadly his health deteriorated whilst in the camp, and owing to a lack of proper medical attention he died on November 16th 1942 in Gierenbad Camp, near Hindwhill. He was buried in the Friezenberg Cemetery, near Zurich and it's reported that all the 350 inmates of the camp attended his funeral, in defiance of authority.

Although his operatic recordings are available, regrettably Schmidt did not make any professional recordings of Chazanut. However,  there are some private ones that were published including B'rich Shmei and Ki Lekach Tov.

Joseph Schmidt is one of the rare exceptions among singers, whose voice lives on through his recordings with the same impact thirty years after his death. Schmidt was born on March 4th, 1904 at Davideny, Buchavina, Rumania. His father, a small farmer, was a severe man with a strong aversion to music, and was against his son taking up music and singing as a profession. His  mother, however, was a tender and good natured woman, with a sympathetic understanding for Joseph's musical bent.

Schmidt was endowed with a natural talent: his exceptional voice was first noticed as a very small child, even a 'toddler', then In the choir of his native Synagogue. He was very much influenced by the late Chazan Moshe David Steinberg of Vilna and Odessa, as is seen by his Chazanut recordings of 'Brich Sh'mel', 'Ki Lekach Tov', and other private records which he left. In Chazanut or Yiddish songs, he made no professional recordings, but speclalised in operatic arias.

At Czernovitz, where his parents had moved because of the 1914-18 War, the 20 year-old Schmidt gave his public debut at a full-fledged Concert Singer, but he knew that he still had much to learn, and far to go, before making the grade as a 'World Artiste'. In 1928, his uncle, Leo Engel, a clever manager, arranged for his nephew to come to Berlin.

In 1929, on his way to Berlin, he was invited to give several concerts in Amsterdam and Antwerp. I, myself, was present at these Antwerp concerts, and there perceived the great difference between hearing a singer on a record or in person. To attend one of his concerts, which always consisted of two parts, the first, Chazanut, and the second, Neapolitan songs and operatic arias, accompanied at the piano by himself, was a heavenly experience. The beautiful voice, coloratura, like a string of pearls, each note separate, his diction, all added up to a thrilling, unforgettable evening.
 
It soon became evident, however, that an operatic career was ruled out by his physical limitations. Schmidt was a diminutive, under five feet tall, and had a somewhat pathetic looking figure; the voice, however, was suited to the microphone, and came through in all its brilliance, glory and beauty, without distortion, to the great enjoyment of his listeners. And yet, for Schmidt, whose voice would have singled him out for a brilliant career on the operatic stage, the dream of his lifetime was never to come true.

The voice could not remain hidden, and finally earned its possessor the recognition he deserved, in the fields that still remained open to him - radio, records and films. After 1932, his fame spread with comet-like speed; his almost monthly 'schiage', (hit-song) record, the motion pictures in which he participated, usually involving a 'golden-voiced' tenor, with doomed operatic or dramatic ambitions, or both, was at once dramatically convincing and musically appealing. The most famous among them 'Ehi Lied geht urn die Welt' could have modelled his own life. The contemporary critics were unanimous In acknowledging Schmidt's superiority, and his special qualifications for the microphone.

An admirer, when asked 'Which recording of Schmidt would you like to hear?', answered, "But friend, it is the voice. It makes no difference what he sings: it is the voice I want".

Above all, Schmidt excelled In Mozart which he sang very often under Bruno Walter, with outstanding success. Many hundreds of times, Schmidt stood before the microphones in Berlin and Vienna. "At times, the notes seem to have sprung from a dream," a Viennese critic marvelled, "Intriguing our senses. Whether they are from Mozart, or Tchaikovski, or Verdi or Puccini, the parts seem to be steeped in strange luminous colours".
 
It was in the film-studio in Vienna, that Schmidt eventually switched over to light entertainment, challenging Richard Tauber for the role of 'most popular contemporary singer'. His next films, were 'Heute ist der schoenster Tag in meinem Leben', 'Wenn du jung bist, gehoert dir die Welt', 'Em Stern failt'. These became successes throughout the world. With the advent of Nazism, Schmidt transferred the centre of his activities to Holland, Belgium and France.

The outbreak of World War Two, found Schmidt in 'La Bul-bul' in France. For a while, he remained in the unoccupied zone, then made his way to Switzerland, where he was interned as an 'illegal entrant'. His never robust health deteriorated steadily, owing to the deprevations of camp life; sick with a feverish inflammation of the throat, and lacking in proper medical attention, the singer died on November 16th, 1942, in Gierenbad Camp, near Hindwhill, and was buried in Friezenberg Cemetery, near Zurich. He was 38 years old. All 350 inmates of the Camp turned out to his funeral, in defiance of the official authority.

Just as Caruso's 'musical soul' represented the Italian Peoples, so did Joseph Schmidt, through his enchanting melodies, his beautiful singing direct from the heart, represent the Jewish and Buchavina People. The name of Schmidt erupted on the musical scene of Europe during the early 30's. 'A new Caruso' exclaimed the dutiful press, in the manner it has heralded a new tenor, ever since the passing of the 'Unique Neapolitan'.

There have been other outstanding singers whose realm of glory was not the operatic stage. John McCormack, for one, seldom appeared in opera, and, by his own admission, frequently found it difficult to 'get inside a role'. This was not the case with Joseph Schmidt: only his unfortunate physical limitations prevented him from realising his dream. The voice itself, was not a giant one; although it did take to the microphone remarkably well, and could easily create that impression. It was suitable in size, however, to the demand of all but the heaviest dramatic parts. His range was Impressive: rising to a ringing and effortless Top C and even more; Schmidt sang with a moving, eloquent style, passionately lyrical, but avoiding tearful sentimentality. You will understand what I mean, if you ever have a chance of hearing his 'Ich bin em Zigeuner Kind' from 'Zigeuner Lied' by Burger.

He was an Artiste of taste, and secure musicianship, and commanded a full arsenal of the 'Singer's Craft'. 'Hakol toleh b'mazal, goes the saying -  'everythning depends on luck.' There is much sentimentality woven into the legend of Joseph Schmidt. His life contained so much sadness and happiness, so much glory and misery, side by side, that one cannot wonder at this; but much more important than the personal tragedy of the singer, seems to be that contemporary barbarism which could condemn an Artiste's noble and beautiful abilities on the grounds of his physical shortcomings. The belated homage due to a great Artiste was trampled upon.

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