Biographical essay, written in the course of a research assignment by Emil Berliner Studios, © Dr. Eva Zöllner

 

The history of audio technology, of the record and its dissemination can be told in many different ways, depending on whether the focus lies on technical, contemporary or industrial history. But it can also be recounted from the personal viewpoint of a woman who witnessed the development at first hand: for most of her professional life, Erna Elchlepp worked as an executive, as producer and as head of the "artists' department" at Deutsche Grammophon in Berlin, Paris and Hanover. From about 1920 until the 1960s, she witnessed major technical innovations as well as continuous minor changes that were accomplished in the field. She experienced the "Roaring Twenties," the Great Depression, World War II, and the so-called German Economic Miracle, the Wirtschaftswunder, under the aspect of recording technology and the analog record. Her energy and determination, but also her kindness and great loyalty made her a professional and personal authority whom friends, family members and colleagues affectionately and respectfully simply called "Aunt Erna".

Erna Elchlepp was born in Zittau on August 5, 1887, to textile merchant Theodor Elchlepp and his wife Minna. Around 1900, when Erna Elchlepp was 12 years old,^[1] the family moved to Berlin.^[2] The desire for independence apparently stirred in Erna Elchlepp early on: at the age of 16, just after having graduated from school,^[3] she surprised her parents with the request to be allowed to go to France for one year in order to learn the language there. This was extremely unusual at the time. ^[4] Her family was open to the idea of their daughter's professional independence, and her father complied with her wish and arranged an exchange with a young Frenchman.

Not long after Erna Elchlepp's return to Berlin she went to spend another year abroad in England: a private school in Ventnor on the Isle of Wight had taken her on as a French teacher. However, Erna did not stay there for long but decided to prioritise improving her language skills instead. After just three months, she sought employment as a lady’s companion. Then it was back to Berlin; within a year she finished her education at a local business school^[5] and, still in her early 20s, started her professional career.

This way Erna Elchlepp had made the best possible use of the educational opportunities available to a woman at the time; around 1905, when she left school, preparation for university entrance qualifications was still reserved almost exclusively for young men. In 1896, just 9 years earlier, 6 externally prepared women had been admitted to the Abitur exam in Berlin. And it was not until 1908 that women were allowed to officially enrol at Prussian universities.^[6]

The beginnings of Erna Elchlepp's professional life were rather modest: she took her first job at the "Deutsche Dental-Gesellschaft Erhard Zacharias" (German Dental Company Erhard Zacharias) in Berlin-Mitte, ^[7] where she was responsible for the English-language correspondence. The company supplied equipment and fittings for dental practices and also maintained international business relations, especially with the United States.

Only a few years later, World War I started, which had its own consequences for Erna on the "home front": in 1914 the company owner was drafted and Erna Elchlepp,^[8] together with her colleague Mrs. Warsany, took over management of the company. The company’s elderly accountant, "an old invalid who would become irascible and throw the books to the ground if disturbed"^[9] was apparently less than pleased to take instructions from a female management team. Erna Elchlepp herself was aware of how unusual her professional situation was: "You have to take into account that in my youth, seeing a woman in a management position was very uncommon!", she proudly told her interview partner at 90 years old.^[10] Whether she was afraid taking on new responsibility is not known; however, her subsequent career suggests that she regarded the new task as a challenge and welcomed it wholeheartedly.

In the last year of the war, a new chapter began in Erna Elchlepp's personal and professional life: in January 1918 the German Dental Company was liquidated,^[11] and in October, a few weeks before the end of the war, her father died (her mother had already died in 1915). This marked the beginning of a new chapter in life for both her and her brother Walter, who was two years her junior. Erna Elchlepp, now in her early 30s, was about to start a new career. In 1919, while looking for a new employer with international connections where she could profitably use her language skills, she finally came across an advertisement of Deutsche Grammophon looking for a foreign language correspondent for English and French. Erna applied and was hired. On October 1, 1919 she began her career in the recording industry, a career that was as extraordinary as it was long.

Erna Elchlepp joined Deutsche Grammophon's export department, which at that time had about 50 employees, at its Berlin headquarters based in Markgrafenstraße 76. At first, she felt "rather lost in a large room, working on file cards at antiquated standing desks”. After a few months, Fritz Schönheimer (1895–1975), who had been hired at about the same time, took over the position of export manager, and Erna Elchlepp was assigned to him as his assistant.^[12] The international business picked up, and "soon the formerly large empty room was populated with hard-working typists who, each having her own special field of work, competed with one another in the mornings after the mail had come in to see who had the largest number of incoming orders."^[13]

One of the export department’s tasks was to take care of the extensive technical travel needs of the recording expeditions that spanned the globe:

"The recordings were made on wax plates using gramophone horns for amplifiers. In addition to the wax plates, which were packed in large zinc-covered boxes to protect them from mechanical shocks and moisture, a so-called heating cabinet was required to heat the wax plates before use. The recording engineer, who was either Mr. Blaesche, Mr. Ehrich or Mr. Goile, set off with quite a lot of luggage – about 10 large boxes and suitcases. [...] We were always glad when the recorded waxes arrived in Hanover for development without too much damage."^[14]

Apparently it was easy to get by as an employee at Deutsche Grammophon despite the galloping inflation at the beginning of the 1920s:

"Generally speaking, there was a good working atmosphere in the company. In addition to the quite reasonable salaries, each employee received a full month's salary at Christmas and another month's salary as a bonus at the end of the business year. The payment of 14 months' salary was by no means common in those days. In addition, an excellent lunch was provided for only a few pennies. Traditionally, an annual works outing was organized each summer, with the popular Woltersdorfer Schleuse in Berlin as its destination. During the years of inflation, temporary fluctuations aside, the German economy was in full swing; good money was being earned."^[15]

One of the few remaining staff photos of the 1920s shows a company outing in 1921 (to the aforementioned Woltersdorfer Schleuse?).

Another picture from the early 1920s shows some members of the Deutsche Grammophon management team at a "Rococo costume party" on the premises of Markgrafenstraße 76, among them Erna Elchlepp (with fan), behind her probably Fritz Schönheimer.

Times were good, the future was looking bright and Erna Elchlepp's field of profession expanded again: in 1926, the secretary of general director Bruno Borchardt (1886–1940) fell ill and was on leave for six months. Erna Elchlepp was asked to take on the director's secretarial services during this time – in addition to her previous work. Working two jobs soon proved grueling, but Erna Elchlepp was made of hardy stuff:

"The strain of this extra burden may have been obvious at times, and the GD also noticed my exhausted appearance. One day after I had finished my lunch in the cafeteria, the chef brought me a second helping of spinach and egg, which was served that day. On my remark that I had already received my portion, he said, "Mr. General Director has ordered that you always receive two helpings now!" Suppressed laughter. Of course, this story spread across the company like wildfire and in the afternoon, as so often before – Mr. Schönheimer has a lot of ironic wit – the following little note was slipped through the little window in the glass wall separating us (we sat back to back separated by a wood and glass wall): "Good bait catches fine fish, spinach and egg catch secretaries!" He was right – a short time later the GD asked me whether I would not like to take over the secretary’s office. I refused, aware that I might have to expect my dismissal as my refusal must have offended the GD. But lo and behold, a few days later there was a note on my desk that I had been given the power of attorney to trade, with a corresponding salary increase!"^[16]

But that was not all: when Fritz Schönheimer went on a one-year trip around the world in 1926 (which was followed by a second, shorter one in 1928) "in order to further expand the export business and to finalise negotiations", ^[17] Erna single-handedly managed the export department in his absence.

Apparently Erna Elchlepp carried out her duties to great satisfaction; in 1929 she was entrusted with an even greater task, this time on management level: together with the young Herbert Borchardt (1906–2000), a nephew of General Director Bruno Borchardt, she was sent to Paris to get the newly founded "Société Phonographique Française Polydor" up and running.

In 1924, Deutsche Grammophon had founded the export label "Polydor", as the company were no longer allowed to use their old brand "His Master’s Voice" due to the conditions of the Treaty of Versailles.^[18] The distribution of Polydor records in France was entrusted to the Paris agency of the well-known instrument manufacturing company Hohner/Trossingen,^[19] which first introduced the brand.^[20]. In order to be able to develop the French market more sustainably, in 1929 the "Société Phonographique Française Polydor" was established in Paris.^[21]

For Erna Elchlepp, this promotion was a great honor, but with it came hard work and long hours; it is proof of her assertiveness and persistence (remember her previous management role at the German Dental Company) that she tackled the task and did not allow herself to be discouraged by the many fundamental difficulties that had to be cleared out of the way in Paris. And there were many, starting with the company building itself: the factory at 6-8 rue Jenner in the 13th arrondissement, which had been taken over from the Maunoury, Wolff & Cie. paper mill,^[22] was in a terrible state, the power supply hardly adequate:

"In Paris, I was greeted by a concierge on rue Jenner and a run-down and dirty factory building. I had the concierge give me a chair that stood in the middle of the empty room, and that's how I began my work. We had a lot of difficulties in the beginning, because the power distribution was insufficient and some time passed until a bigger system was installed. So whenever I turned the corner into rue Jenner in the mornings, I first looked up at the chimney. If there was no smoke coming out, we were once again at a standstill and that always meant delays in delivery that we couldn't afford."^[23]

Sometimes the staff had to get technical advice on the go over the phone from Hanover.

"There were all sorts of technical difficulties as well and Master Stieghahn often came into the office in despair, saying he was at a loss. Neither Mr. Herbert Borchardt nor I had ever visited the Hanover site, I had had all technical matters explained to me as far as possible by Mr. Bierwirth, who had been setting up the factory, and often questions had to be clarified over the telephone with Hanover."

The early days were not for the faint of heart. However, things soon improved. The number of presses was increased from 6 to 12^[24] and the expansion continued further, not only in terms of the volume of runs produced, but also structurally:

"After business had taken off well, we were commissioned to set up a rolling mill and electroforming shop as well, and in the process the adjoining new building was built.^[25] A master electroplater poached from The Grammophon [sic] introduced a shorter development process, which he also applied in Hanover."^[26]

The factory's activities did not go unnoticed in the neighborhood: the owner of a small hotel on the corner, which rented single rooms mainly to Italian workers who slept during the day, filed a complaint. The vibrations were indeed "so strong that the spoons rattled on the coffee cups." An attempt was made to improve the situation by means of felt and rubber pads, but still a compensation claim was made that ended in a settlement.^[27]

The Paris company, however, was not only intended as a production site but was also supposed to record new repertoire specially tailored to the French market, satisfying both classical music lovers as well as those preferring popular music such as operetta and chanson; Fritz König was seconded to Polydor as recording manager and moved to Paris with his family.^[28] For the classical repertoire, Erna Elchlepp was advised by Albert Wolff (1884–1970), the chief conductor of the Orchestre Lamoureux at the time. For popular music, she was advised by an expert of the Paris scene, Albert Olivier. In order to select appropriate repertoire and associated artists, Erna Elchlepp went "to the cinema and attended cabaret and opera performances ad nauseam."^[29]

The speed at which the establishment of the company, along with construction work, record production and recording activities developed was nothing short of breathtaking. Elchlepp had only just been installed in Paris when Berlin already announced repertoire requests:

"We had not yet been resident for three months, that is, we were still in the process of setting up, when one day Mr. Wünsch gave me the order over the telephone to prepare and record two French short opera versions of Bohème and Carmen as quickly as possible, saying they were quite successful with projects of this kind, and that he would send me the orchestral material and the reduced parts. [...] If it had not been for Maître Wolf [...] who had the orchestra, the choir, the copyists, etc. at hand, the realization of such a recording, when we had barely settled down, would hardly have been possible."^[30]

Since the company had not yet set up their own recording studio, interim solutions were sought. These were initially found in the Bal Bullier dance hall in the 5th arrondissement, 31-39 avenue d'Observatoire (the aforementioned short operas were also recorded here). Small chanson and dance recordings were made in a nearby theater.^[31] Soon, however, the need for permanent facilities became apparent:

"Since the setup and teardown of recording equipment took a lot of time, we were looking for our own hall and found an empty factory hall nearby of rather large dimensions, with an adjoining smaller hall. Here we set up. The equipment found a permanent spot from which both halls could be operated. Only the machine noises from a nearby chocolate factory caused us grief at first, until we installed two wooden walls close together on this side, filling the gap in between with sand. We also covered the large cement floor in the back with sand and as a result the acoustics were quite good. A podium for the orchestra was built. We also held our monthly receptions for our clients, to whom we presented our latest productions in this hall – a tradition that I later also started in Berlin in Lützowstraße, despite Herr Wünsch’s initial protests."^[32]

The chocolate factory mentioned was the "Compagnie coloniale", 68 boulevard de la Gare (today boulevard Vincent Auriol),^[33] which was only a stone's throw away from Polydor; the two recording halls, where stars such as Louis Armstrong and Edith Piaf also recorded in the course of the 1930s (72–74 boulevard de la Gare), were thus in the immediate vicinity of the Polydor offices.

In January 1930, the legendary first recording of "Boléro" with active participation of the composertook place. Erna Elchlepp herself had persuaded Ravel to record for Polydor:

"The Lamoureux Orchestra under Maître [Albert] Wolf [sic] gave a concert in the Salle Gaveau and it was there that the first performance of Ravel's "Bolero" took place. Immediately after the concert I went to Maître Wolf and asked him to introduce me to Ravel. At my request, he agreed to personally conduct the Bolero for us, and so we were the first company to bring out the Bolero in authentic performance, and the recording sold well."^[34]

There has been much speculation about the exact nature of Ravel's contribution to this recording; in the preface to his 2007 edition of Ravel's "Boléro,^[35] musicologist Jean-François Monnard writes that four years before his death Albert Wolff claimed to have directed the recording himself. This is contradicted by the account of the "Edition musicale vivante" of January 1930, which contains an extremely detailed report of the recording session. According to this report, Wolff acted as Ravel's assistant for the "Boléro": he rehearsed the tempo that suited the composer with the orchestra and then handed over the baton to Ravel for the recording itself.

The recording did not go off without a hitch, however: Ravel even ruined one take because he (to the great horror of the technicians) threw the baton loudly and audibly onto the rostrum before the green light was on, giving the all-clear from the control room. At the same session, Ravel's Menuet antique was also recorded, with Albert Wolff conducting the orchestra.^[36] The great detail of the report in the "Edition musicale vivante" suggests however that Ravel conducted the "Boléro" himself.

According to music producer Jacques Canetti^[37] and other sources, the Polydor recording of the "Boléro" is said to have taken place at the Bal Bullier. However, recently discovered privately owned photos showing Erna Elchlepp and Maurice Ravel in the Polydor studio (recognizable by the company logo on the floor) have caused some confusion. It is not yet clear on what specific occasion these photos were taken, whether during rehearsals for the "Boléro" recording or during a later recording of Ravel for Polydor.^[38] However, regardless of the question of who ultimately took the baton and where exactly the recording took place, Erna Elchlepp's engagement of Maurice Ravel was a highly publicity-effective coup and the undisputed highlight of her time at Polydor.

The five months she had initially been supposed to lead the Polydor label ultimately turned into 4 years. And it might even have been more, had not the catastrophic political upheavals and repressive measures brought about by the National Socialist regime led to a personnel castling at Deutsche Grammophon in 1933: in order to escape the boycott of Jewish businesses and enterprises announced for April, Fritz Schönheimer (in March 1933) and Bruno Borchardt fled first to Switzerland, and from there to France;^[39] in May, Erna Elchlepp ceded her post to Schönheimer and Herbert Borchardt and returned to Berlin. Fritz Schönheimer took over the management of the "Société Phonographique Française Polydor", Bruno Borchardt took over the management of Polydor Holding AG.^[40]

The group photo taken on the occasion of Erna Elchlepp's farewell reception shows the entire Polydor staff of about 80, gathered in the aforementioned Polydor recording room. In the center, looking somewhat lost, is Erna Elchlepp, framed by her successor Fritz Schönheimer and Herbert Borchardt.^[41] "For me it was a hard parting, the end of a happy and prolific time," she later recalled.^[42] Nonetheless she had to submit to the call of the company and the reversal of political fortunes.

She did not return to the export department in Berlin in 1933. Thanks to the experience she had gained in Paris, director Hugo Wünsch made her head of the "Artists' Department" of Deutsche Grammophon, where she acted as program director for the classical segment as well as popular music.

Times were becoming difficult – in the years following the onset of the Great Depression in 1929, sales in the phonographic industry went rapidly downhill, and prices for records plummeted. While Deutsche Grammophon had pressed 6.85 million records in Hanover in 1930, by 1936 it had pressed only 1.4 million. ^[43] In the course of the cost-cutting measures, there were massive cutbacks in the group and operations; in August 1934, the company parted with the representative sprawling building complex with concert hall at Markgrafenstraße 76 and moved to more modest rented premises in Jerusalemer Straße, and in the fall of 1938 to Ringbahnstraße 63 in Tempelhof.^[44] Erna Elchlepp commented:

"I still remember the moment when Herr Direktor Wünsch came and asked me to walk through the rooms with him one last time. With heavy hearts, we walked through the deserted top-executives’ offices towards the front of the building, the beautiful concert hall that had served so little of its purpose – it had been intended as a means to give young artists the opportunity to make their first debut in Berlin before members of the press and a select audience. [...] On our farewell walk we also thought about the Rococo costume party, the baroque-style hall had provided the right setting for the occasion, realizing how ephemeral wealth and splendor can be."^[45]

In her function as director of production, Erna Elchlepp was in contact with artists of all genres. In the field of popular music, she signed singers like Johannes Heesters^[46], Mimi Thoma and Rudi Schuricke as well as the orchestras of Oskar Joost, Erhard Bauschke and others. However, due to the dire economic situation the budget was limited, which led to severe cutbacks, especially in the popular segment: "What could I do, for example, with a budget of 80,000 marks that I was not allowed to exceed by a penny? Dance recordings were not allowed to cost more than DM 150 to DM 200, but somehow the Joost and Bauschke orchestras managed. New contracts were out of the question."^[47]

Greater financial leeway was not available again until 1937, when the DGG group was reorganized (from an AG to a GmbH) and merged with Telefunken. ^[48]Thus, in the late 1930s, Erna Elchlepp witnessed recordings with Victor de Sabata in the studio on Alte Jakobstraße ("this spirited musician lost his temper when the trumpeters intoned the opening fanfares of the triumphal march in Aida and did not immediately sound as desired, he threw down his baton and wanted to leave"), with Herbert von Karajan in the same studio, with Wilhelm Furtwängler, Paul van Kempen, with Hans Pfitzner and Carl Schuricht ("both difficult to deal with [...] Mr. Hasse, Mr. Ehrich or Mr. Blaesche certainly did not have an easy time dealing with them")^[49] and many other artists.

Nevertheless, the internal mood of the company during these years seems to have been good: for a company outing on June 30, 1939, Grammophon employees prepared a joke radio report, which was presumably performed or "broadcast" during the outing itself. The manuscript of this cheerfully ironic action has been preserved^[50] and provides a few small glimpses behind the scenes of the company, highlighting the particular strengths and preferences of the employees. Erna Elchlepp is also represented, named "Erna Dampf," a pseudonym apparently due to her well-known assertiveness. The synonym of "cheese factory" for Deutsche Grammophon was apparently an old internal running gag, referring to the recording wax blanks that looked like wheels of cheese.

"That's the most important person in our cheese factory, Erna Dampf, our artistic cheese maker – [response from the "radio" announcer]: "Golly, well done! Yes, yes, the so-called weaker sex!" – But Erna Dampf is the good spirit of the whole cheese factory. She has to stick her nose into every cheese. She takes special care of the young and charming cheese mixers. The specialist Johannes [Heesters] hired from Holland and the talented expert Gino [Sinimberghi?]^[51] are her favorites. She doesn't think much of female cheese mixers. However, with our new mixers Mario [Traversa]^[52] and Fin [Olsen]^[53], she has shown a fine instinct for quality cheese makers. The cheeses made by these two are bound to be box office hits."^[54]

Erna Elchlepp was apparently particularly taken with the "crooners." The carefree, naïve tone of this "radio" business report seems strange, however, in view of the racist activities of the National Socialists taking place outside at the same time. In April of the same year, only a few weeks before the company outing, there had been an éclat at the Berlin "Delphi": Fin Olsen and the dancer Viola Rosé, who were touring with Max Rumpf's band, were dragged off the stage by SA people because they "did not like the so-called "eccentric dance" of the two artists, who were already considered very decadent and "un-German"; on top of that, Olsen had presented his homosexuality all too obviously. [...] However, the Danish citizen Olsen was released again and was even able to produce some nice recordings with the Erhard Bauschke Orchestra before he had to leave Germany."^[55]

On September 1, 1939, the Second World War began. As early as December, Deutsche Grammophon's in-house magazine "Die Stimme seines Herrn" advised: "Please return old records! Records consist partly of material that (since it is produced in enemy states) cannot be imported at present. Therefore, attempts must be made to keep production going by using old material."^[56] Even during the war, there were further changes in the ownership of the DGG group, which resulted in the company becoming a subsidiary of Siemens in 1941.^[57]

On January 30, 1944, the building complex at Ringbahnstraße 63 was completely destroyed by incendiary bombs; once again downsized, the staff moved on to rooms in Alte Jakobstraße above the recording hall, the former Central-Theater, where DGG had been recording since 1938. But less than a year later, this building also went up in flames during a bombing raid on February 3, 1945. Fortunately, no one had been in the office that day due to a lack of coal. The staff of Deutsche Grammophon were lucky and escaped, unlike the residents of the front building, "these had perished in the basement rooms, which we also used."^[58]

Two months later, a traumatic event hit Erna and her family in the last days of the war: during the so-called "Bread Revolts," on April 6, 1945, citizens in Berlin-Rahnsdorf staged protests at two bakers in Fürstenwalder Allee. The local group leader of the NSDAP had arranged for special bread stamps to be issued only to members of Nazi associations. This led to a riot among the hungry population; Margarete Elchlepp (the wife of Erna's brother Walter Elchlepp) and her sister Gertrud Kleindienst tried to mediate. However, together with some other participants they were arrested and handed over to a summary court martial. While Gertrud Kleindienst was sentenced to eight years in prison, Margarete Elchlepp (together with the carpenter Max Hilliges) was beheaded in Plötzensee shortly after midnight on April 8 for "undermining of military strength" and "breach of the peace."^[59] The murders were placarded in Rahnsdorf in the following days as a deterrent.

Erna Elchlepp thus experienced worst atrocities of the Nazi regime in the core of her family. Life and death were only a hair's breadth apart at every moment. We can hardly imagine today how difficult it was to survive psychologically and physically in Berlin at that time.

Nevertheless, life went on in the ruins – even record life. Immediately after the end of the war, Deutsche Grammophon tried to set up new production and distribution facilities in Berlin under the direction of Erna Elchlepp. With presses and machine parts from Hanover and old record material a new makeshift factory was put up in the derelict remains of the Ringstraße building in order to supply the city itself as well as the Soviet zone of occupation with records; provisional quarters were provided by Hugo Wünsch's Zehlendorf villa (who died in 1948). Even during the Berlin Airlift, recordings were still taking place in Berlin in March 1949: "We were recording with the Dresdner Kreuzchor under Rudolf Mauersberger at the time and had to interrupt every four minutes because an airplane was roaring by."^[60]

However, as bold and promising as these attempts were, the 1949 blockade soon made distribution to the Soviet occupation zone impossible. Deutsche Grammophon's headquarters were therefore moved to Hanover, and some of the Berlin staff was transferred there.^[61]

Erna Elchlepp, now in her early 60s, also packed her bags and moved to Hanover, where for three years she built up the classical repertoire together with Dr. Fred Hamel and tried to win old DGG artists back; she visited Wilhelm Kempff in Bremen for the purpose, and approached Heinrich Schlusnus, then contracted by Decca, after a concert in Hanover.^[62]

In 1953, Erna Elchlepp officially retired. But that still didn't mean the end of her professional activities: she then took over the management of the Berlin office of Deutsche Grammophon at Kurfürstendamm 26a for another two years. Accordingly, she worked together with the legendary DGG producer Elsa Schiller (1897–1974) both in Hanover and in Berlin.

On April 30, 1955, she finally did retire – or did she? In fact, "Aunt Erna" never completely cut her ties with Deutsche Grammophon, tangible proof are some telegrams and messages from and to Ferenc Fricsay from 1956–1962, kept in the Fricsay Archive at the Akademie der Künste, Berlin.^[63]

Throughout the years, Erna Elchlepp always stayed in close contact with her colleagues and with the artists of Deutsche Grammophon. During the turmoil of the war years, she tried to keep in touch with the musicians:

"Whenever the names of their fighting units were known to me, I kept up the connection, also with parcels, and it was often touching to see how strong the attachment to "Deutsche Grammophon" was, with popular music artists in particular – when on leave, they always came by the offices of "their" Deutsche Grammophon. For instance [Erhard] Bauschke came by and told me that he had swum with his saxophone through some river in France and the only thing he could save was his saxophone. Before a second vacation, he died.^[64] I also visited [Oskar] Joost in hospital shortly before he died."^[65]

Erna Elchlepp also supported Deutsche Grammophon artists financially in the hard post-war period by repeatedly taking household goods or other valuables in payment. As her foster daughter remembers, who moved in with her for a time in the mid-1950s, a new piece of furniture or an unfamiliar carpet would suddenly appear in her Schöneberg apartment now and then, only to disappear again at some point.

Erna Elchlepp maintained her connection to Deutsche Grammophon well into old age. And she never regretted the path she had chosen in life: when asked if she had done everything right in her long successful life, the 90-year-old replied emphatically, "I would do everything exactly the same way again!"^[66]

On August 1, 1979, Erna Elchlepp died in Berlin at the age of almost 92. When the mourners gathered for the funeral at a Berlin cemetery to escort her to her final resting place a few days later, the ceremony had to be called off and postponed because they were standing at the wrong grave site and the right one could not be found – as if the indefatigable "Aunt Erna" had raised one last objection.

Hamburg, January 2021

Dr. Eva Zöllner

 

I am indebted to several members of the Elchlepp family. In particular, I would like like to thank Ute Steffen née Elchlepp, Erna Elchlepp’s foster daughter, who answered my many questions in a very obliging, friendly and patient manner. Further grateful thanks are due to Dietrich Elchlepp, MdB/MdEP a.D., Jan Elchlepp as well as Pia Elchlepp.

I would also like to thank Véronique Genouvès from AFAS (Association française des détenteurs de documents sonores et audiovisuels) in Paris, as well as AFAS members Thomas Henry and Henri Chamoux for their extremely friendly and prompt assistance with my questions about the Polydor studio on the Boulevard de la Gare.

And to Rainer Maillard (Emil Berliner Studios) and Alan Newcombe (Deutsche Grammophon): thanks for the inspiration and tireless support!