* * * * * “RICHARD WAGNER—VORSPIEL, “PARSIFAL” “ADDRESS “MR. OWEN WISTER “RICHARD STRAUSS, TONE POEM, OPUS 28, “TOD UND VERKLÄRUNG, “(Death and Transfiguration).” * * * * * “UNVEIL MEMORIAL TO FRITZ SCHEEL” GREAT THRONG AT ACADEMY OF MUSIC TO PARTICIPATE IN HONOR OF FIRST CONDUCTOR OF PHILADELPHIA ORCHESTRA “One of the greatest tributes ever paid to a musician in this city was the Fritz Scheel memorial celebration at the Academy of Music yesterday afternoon. It was a tribute to a man who was much beloved for the years of hard work he had done in bringing the Philadelphia Orchestra to its present perfection, as well as a tribute to his own personality, which won for him hosts of very warm admirers here.” “GREAT CROWD GATHERED” “The memorial services at the Academy yesterday, modest and impressive as they were, were remarkable for the vast crowd that assembled to honor the master. Long before the doors were opened, hundreds of people had gathered at each of the entrances, which were rapidly increased to thousands and when admission was finally gained, it was only a short time before every bit of available space was taken, with sufficient people on the outside to fill the place twice over. “That the Academy was filled to capacity was announced at the different entrances by attachés of the Academy, and although hundreds turned away disappointed, an equal number of them remained during the entire hour of the memorial services, and to repay them for their patience, they were finally allowed admission, not to get a chance to hear any of the ceremonies, but to view the handsome tablet. “The tablet was unveiled while the audience listened to the brief but impressive address of Mr. Owen Wister.” * * * * * “MRS. ROOSEVELT SENT A WREATH” “Encircling the tablet was a festooning of laurel sent by the Women’s Committee, and underneath a large wreath of beautiful white roses sent by Mrs. Roosevelt. “Mr. Wister’s address was a brief but eloquent effort. After a few introductory remarks, he said among other things: “‘Great poems survive the poets who wrote them; great pictures and statues survive their creators, as symphonies survive the masters who composed them. In all these arts the work of genius lives on, while the brain where it was born goes to dust. Not so is it with another sort of artist, the interpreter. He who interprets—the actor, the singer, the player—be he never so great, be he Garrick, or Mario or Paganini, still must he perish with the generation that heard him, and sometimes he does not even leave a name.