From the workshop of Jiří Harcuba over the ocean
The Prague Spring of 1968 gave all Czechs and Slovaks a reason to hope that the authoritarian Czechoslovak regime might be changed from within. At this hopeful time, on the eve of the 50th anniversary of the country’s foundation, expatriates from Chicago asked the Artia agency, an international presenter of Czech art, to find a Czech artist who would design a commemorative medal for the occasion. Artia chose Jiří Harcuba, an experienced, well-respected medal designer. Harcuba took up the task with pleasure, but what was to be a celebratory and commemorative medal unexpectedly soon became a “protest” medal and a memento.
I was finishing the medal in August 1968, which shows in the final design: after the occupation, I added the bayonets symbolizing the five invading countries, the serpent, and also the date: 21 August 1968.
The medals were sent to America where their distribution was promoted by the local Czech periodicals and expatriate societies. As for Jiří Harcuba, his work earned him four months in prison. Fortunately, there were no further serious personal or artistic consequences.
The commemorative medal designed by Jiří Harcuba for the 50th anniversary of the foundation of Czechoslovakia – front and back side
The thwarted hopes of Rafael Kubelík and others
When the exiled Czech conductor Rafael Kubelík learned about the medal in the dramatic, politically charged atmosphere following the invasion, he immediately ordered no fewer than 110 pieces. His disillusionment over the brutal suppression of the Prague Spring was huge. The artist, always ready to make a public stand in support of his home country, organized a protest petition that called for the severing of all cultural contacts with the five occupying countries and Czechoslovakia itself. The petition was signed by more than 100 prominent contemporary artists.
The occupation of the republic by five states of the Warsaw Pact is a violent contradiction of the humanitarian ideals we have as artists. Until all foreign soldiers have withdrawn from Czechoslovakian territory and the legal government of the C.S.S.R. is free to govern again, it is impossible for us to keep artistic relations with these five nations and Czechoslovakia.
A year elapsed and the first anniversary of the August events was approaching. The Czech Philharmonic was at the time on an international tour and, in late August 1969, had guest performances in Lucerne, Switzerland. Rafael Kubelík and his family lived just a few miles away from the city, in the village of Kastanienbaum. He didn’t want to miss this opportunity for meeting his compatriots and fellow musicians and invited all the orchestra members to his house. The medal was to play an important part in the visit.
Two medals for Jaroslav Kopáček
The group of visitors included a 38-year-old clarinetist of the Czech Philharmonic, Jaroslav Kopáček. And it is he who adds a present-day epilogue to the epic story of the “Harcuba-Kubelík” medal. But let him speak for himself.
Not everybody turned up at the port that afternoon to embark on the Pilatus. There was a small group of those who saw Kubelík’s gesture as a provocation, while others worried about the “immense consequences” as the favourite phrase was at the time.
The orchestra members were cordially welcomed and entertained by Maestro Kubelík, his wife and his son in the garden of Kubelík’s house. It was a real treat of an afternoon, and when it was drawing to a close, Maestro Kubelík brought the enthusiasm of his now rather tipsy guests to a pitch by announcing he had a present for each of them. »WE’LL PLAY TOGETHER AGAIN!«, they promised themselves loudly, though for many of them the occasion would come too late.
By chance, I was among the first people in the line who were given the medal with Kubelík’s signature. Impatient and curious, I examined it closely and realized this was something that the authorities at home would hardly let us keep. After a brief thought that, because of the absence of many colleagues, there would be quite a few medals left, I once again took a place in the line and easily got a second piece.
We were accompanied by a Mr Szanto from the Pragokoncert agency, who was returning to Prague the following day and, probably as part of his work duties, reported on the orchestra members’ meeting with Kubelík.
Those who received Kubelík’s gift were not to enjoy it for long. When the orchestra arrived in Edinburgh, there was a message from Prague, imperative and threatening: »All medals must be handed in and collected: noncompliance shall mean immediate dismissal.« The unenviable task of collecting the medals was given to Director of Finance Vladislav Pietras. On the train from Edinburgh to London, he implored especially those who had steadfastly refused to give the medals up. One person did not hand the medal in, claiming he had lost it. It was Professor Jaroslav Horák, a violinist, whose name was immediately reported to the customs officials at the Ruzyně airport. While waiting for our arrival, they had been drinking and chance would have it that they eventually fell on the wrong person, a trumpet player of the same surname, Jiří Horák.
Out of 100 medals there are, as far as I know, only three left. One that belonged to the late Jaroslav Horák – about which nothing is known – another, my second one that I kept after handing in the first, and a third one that belonged to the late Jaroslav Chvapil, who had most probably obtained it in the same way as myself. I have been silent about this for twenty years: only the people closest to me knew. »So it was you!« Kubelík addressed me in 1990 when I came up to the conductor’s platform to ask him for another signature on the other side of the box. Looking at this silver gift of Kubelík’s, linked with our country’s dramatic past, I remember the words from a play by Jan Werich and Jiří Voskovec: »It’s worth more than its worth«.
Epilogue
It is 2 October 2014, shortly after the opening concert of the 119th season of the Czech Philharmonic. Jaroslav Kopáček, emeritus member of the Czech Philharmonic, the orchestra’s chief conductor, Jiří Bělohlávek, and executive director David Mareček meet at the Ceremony Hall of the Rudolfinum, where Mr Kopáček officially donates the medal with Kubelík’s signatures to the Czech Philharmonic. Displayed in a place of honour, it will preserve the memory of the main actors of this story and show how the threads of individual lives are inextricably woven into the fabric of history.
Vím pozitivně, že můj strýc Gustav Vránek také
neodevzdal tuto medaili…
S pozdravem Č.Vránek, exvioloncellista ČF