In the last blog post, you saw how things got rocky between the founders of the competition and the newly formed Friends of the Competition in the early 1990s. While both groups wanted to see the competition flourish, they had different ideas of how to get there—and different opinions about what the competition should aim to do. Ultimately, the two groups would split, the Casadesus family withdrawing their support from the competition and the Friends taking charge. Here, I have summarized some of the most telling notes, letters, minutes, and articles held in our archives. You’ll notice tension building, threats and accusations being made, and a sudden end to a twenty-year partnership.
As the Clevelanders begin to plan for the 1995 competition, they took undated notes in January of 1994. In them, they record frustration with the “4 French plus Grant,” by whom they likely meant Gaby, Therese, Odette, Grant, and Guy Casadesus (Gaby and Robert’s son). One of their primary complaints was that being on the board of the competition was technically the same as being on the board of the Robert Casadesus Society. The Clevelanders wanted to work on the competition, but they did not have an attachment to the Society and made no decisions related to it. And, the Clevelanders believed that continued family involvement would pose a problem because their music and jury selections were at the center of controversy in 1993. The “new leadership” of the competition (as it is phrased in these notes) therefore wanted to restructure the competition to separate it from the Society. This would also inherently lessen the family’s involvement, and the notes say that they would have the “option to be involved by sponsoring a prize.”
Letters must have been exchanged between this planning meeting and February 17th, when Martha Joseph replied to one from a member of the founding family. We do not have a copy of the family member’s letter in our archive, but Martha responded to several points, suggesting the content of that first letter. She explained that board minutes were not taken at “a recent meeting” because it was unofficial, so she could not forward any minutes along. Whether the family was curious about the planning session or another informal meeting is unclear, but they wanted to see records. Then, Martha explained that Therese would receive a signature card for the competition’s account soon, which the family had been requesting to ensure they authorized any withdrawals from the account. Finally, she acknowledged Odette’s contribution of $41,000, making a list of the reasons why it had been less helpful than the Friends’ $21,000. $10,000 went to pay for a Paris program which “was no help to the competition,” $10,000 went to a CD that “we did not request and which did not help us,” and it also funded a $6,000 party which “would have been less expensive as a jury dinner,” effectively leaving $15,000 for the organization to use. Martha sounds exasperated, but since we do not have the first letter, it is unclear exactly why. It is clear that the two groups were hemorrhaging trust in one another—and losing patience.
More than a month later, on March 21st, David Cerone wrote to Guy Casadesus. David asked Guy to pass along some points at a meeting in Paris between Guy, Gaby, Therese, Therese’s husband (David Rawson), and Odette. In particular, he asked that they continue their partnership with the competition since it added to its “spiritual bouquet.” While we do not have any documentation from the family’s meeting, Odette sent the Clevelanders her resignation from all her duties with the competition in early April—shortly after this meeting would have taken place. Unfortunately, the copy of Odette’s resignation is also missing from our archives, so we do not know her exact reasoning.
Shortly after, on April 11th, Martha also wrote to Guy, answering a letter that was presumably about the Carnegie Fund (again, we do not have his letter). Apparently, Therese had still not received a signature card, and the family was concerned that someone would withdraw money from the account without their permission. Because Martha was the only other person who could authorize withdrawals, she wrote back, “Certainly everyone knows I am trustworthy, and I assume we are not talking about honesty.” After ensuring the card would be sent to Therese, she brings up the issue that Karen Knowlton had not been paid for months and David Cerone had not been reimbursed for a trip Guy asked him to make.
There are some more undated planning notes from sometime in the middle of April. There are a few key points. The first one revisits an issue from the January notes—that all the Clevelanders technically worked under the Robert Casadesus Society. The Society was dedicated to perpetuating the memory of Robert Casadesus, and the Clevelanders believed that this goal worked for the competition when it was small, but “the general public is not usually dedicated to preserving the memory of one person, and it is difficult to build enthusiasm or support with a narrow focus.” The authors suggested that the Society should pursue its goal through other means but would be welcome to fund the first prize. Even so, the people of Cleveland would continue the competition separately. The notes propose five possible names for the competition moving forward, two of which are telling of the Clevelanders’ plans: they would keep name as is if the family gave the first prize, but they would change it to “Cleveland International Piano Competition” if the family were to pull out. They thought having “Cleveland” in the name “would make fundraising easier.”
Shortly after these notes were made, the board met to discuss the competition’s structure on April 22, 1994. Both groups were present, though members of the family were only able to phone in. The minutes record a dialogue between David Cerone and the family—which was apparently quite long and had to be summarized. David explained to everyone that their plan was to officially separate the competition from the Robert Casadesus Society, creating a new, government-registered organization that would be made up of the Friends of the Competition and a limited number of founders. The new group would enter limited-term contractual arrangements with both CIM and the family (who had yet to agree to this). No vote took place, but Guy explained that if the family was not happy with how the competition went, they would “take the Casadesus name” with them. The change of name is not mentioned.
Throughout May and June, curt letters were exchanged between all parties. Many drafts of official documents were passed back and forth as the groups tried to plan the bylaws of the new organization. It would be called Piano International Association of Nothern Ohio, or PIANO. Therese had still not received a signature card, so there were also some brief, seemingly angry exchanges about that. On June 29th, Martha sent David Rawson (Therese’s husband) a copy of the agreement between the new organization and the family, which needed to be signed. Therese and Guy were to be ex-officio, non-voting members of the PIANO board, Gaby was to guide the selection of repertoire and judges, and the family would fund the first-place prize. The Clevelanders believed that the family was going to sign the document.
Then, an article in The Plain Dealer on July 11 reported that there was a new organization running the competition, which had entered into an arrangement with the Casadesus family. The family would be paying for the first prize but would have little involvement otherwise. Although this was ostensibly what the documents they had been exchanging said, the family had yet to sign them, and the article incited outrage. The following day, Guy faxed David Rawson that they would never be able to trust the new organization.
Martha sent a letter to try to smooth things over, but on July 22nd, she and David Cerone received a letter from Therese, Gaby, and Guy terminating the family’s involvement with the competition:
“Dear Martha and David: Although we understand your energy in organizing a 1995 piano competition in Cleveland, we regret to inform you that the Casadesus family and the Robert Casadesus Society will no longer be able to lend either the family name or their support. We will always remember with great fondness the ten successful Robert Casadesus International Piano Competitions held in Cleveland since 1975, but it has become progressively clearer that the Competition has evolved from a Casadesus-directed endeavor to a locally-directed one. Our withdrawal is therefore merely a reflection of the true state of affairs, as evidenced by the unauthorized press release which led to the recent inaccurate and untimely article in The Plain Dealer. We wish you and the great city of Cleveland well in whatever you undertake.” It is signed by Therese on behalf of herself, Gaby Casadesus, and Guy Casadesus.
After receiving this letter, the competition founders heard very little from the family. Gaby was disengaged from the events throughout 1994—her name was mentioned, but she seems not to have participated in the decision making. Several months later, she wrote to them a few times. Her letters express anger and frustration, which is understandable considering the rapidity of the organizational change. In months, an event she had started nearly 20 years before was removed entirely from her hands. An internationally successful competition that had carried on her husband’s memory was reframed, no longer in honor of his life or work.
I am sympathetic to the family’s loss—I think most people would be—but it is also easy to understand what necessitated this shift in power. There was simply no way to move forward with the competition the way things had been going. There was no money and little recourse to fundraise. The family had different goals than the Clevelanders, who took on most of the work and responsibility. Without the change initiated in the mid-nineties, the competition would have been bankrupted and ceased to operate.
The archive holds hundreds of documents directly related to this breakup, but the shift can be detected much earlier. It is unclear how some of the documents ended up in our archive—some of them went between members of the family, no one who would have been likely to send a copy to the office. But even where the documents are indeed missing, glimpses of their perspective can be detected in replies. One thing is obvious: the family’s frustration about the change was rooted in their passion for family and desire to see the competition flourish. It wasn’t any different for the Clevelanders, who cared about community and wanted to make the competition as good as it could be. In the end, the groups could not reconcile, but, hopefully, both felt proud nonetheless. The old guard set up the event for success, and the new guard let it soar.