Bull Fiddler

When Philadelphia Orchestra subscribers take the trouble to peruse the roster of players, they come upon the name of Waldemar Giese listed eighth under the heading "Basses." Waldemar Giese has stood before them solemnly hugging his big bull fiddle for six years. Nevertheless, few would be able to identify this musician whose consuming ambition has been to exhibit his skill as a soloist. Last week, in Philadelphia's New Century Auditorium, Polish Waldemar Giese at last showed what he could do.

At first, noted the audience, his tone wolfed and whistled a little. But as the ponderous instrument warmed up, Waldemar Giese began handling it with the ease of a cellist. Few composers have written exclusively for what jazzmen call "the dog-house." However, Bottesini's Elegie and Friedemann Bach's Largo earned Bull Fiddler Giese a pair of encores.

Colleagues who had played with him for years were amazed at Giese's facility, the way his big hand moved crab-fashion over the keyboard, producing harmonics and arpeggios with seemingly little effort. Most bull fiddlers stand up to their instruments. Waldemar Giese has a specially designed stool with a swivel seat and a foot rest (see cut) which give him support.

Idea for a stool came to him five years ago when he was given a concerto by Composer Antonio Scontrino who made such technical demands that few double-bass players have dared to wrestle with it. Waldemar Giese was not to be daunted.

He set to work to develop his physique, rose every morning at 6, exercised for two hours in Fairmount Park. Now he boasts that his chest measurements are the same as Pugilist Joe Louis' "although I am shorter and 30 pounds lighter."

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