Throughout his lifetime, critics praised composer, musician, and inventor Arthur Fickenscher, UVA’s own founder of the Music Department. His contemporaries believed that Fickenscher’s “Polytone”—an intricate keyboard instrument with over 50 keys per octave, designed to achieve pure intonation—would be revolutionary, ushering in a new era where musical intervals were freed from traditional temperament. It seemed that Arthur Fickenscher’s name would be immortalized in the canon of classical music, becoming just as recognizable—if not more so—than those of Schoenberg, Webern, and Berg. However, nearly a century later, he has faded into relative obscurity, with his most notable remnant being the remains of a dysfunctional version of his Polytone, tucked away in a corner of one of UVA’s libraries.

Contained within UVA’s Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library is a plethora of documents on Arthur Fickenscher. Among them, I first discovered a collection of reviews of his compositions and performances. Many of these reviews did not appear to be photocopies but rather preserved papers from nearly a century ago. Interestingly, during Fickenscher’s career, critics seemed to universally praise everything associated with him. Renowned Australian composer and close friend of Fickenscher, Percy Aldridge Grainger, described his Seventh Quintet as “the loveliest composition for piano and strings” during a recital at Steinway Hall in New York (Goetz, Buffalo Evening News, December 17, 1932). His music was performed by professional orchestras and featured at music festivals across the United States, and throughout his lifetime, he seemed to be on an upward trajectory to stardom. However, during my second visit to the special collections library, I learned that if anything were to be his claim to fame, it would be his Polytone.

Throughout the 20th century, the music world became obsessed with radically transforming the conventions of Western classical music. Beginning with Arnold Schoenberg and his pupils in the Second Viennese School, composers sought to overhaul the conventions of harmony, sparking a wave of revolutionary innovation (Auner, Schoenberg, 127-128). One tradition that particularly challenged Fickenscher was equal temperament, which had remained largely unchanged since the time of Johann Sebastian Bach. In an essay written by Fickenscher himself, he stated, “We of the musical world, with our antiquated laboratory tuning, are just as hampered as scientists working with telescope or microscope would be if they were still using unextended instruments patterned after those of two hundred years ago; especially if such instruments were faulty in their fundamental construction” (Fickenscher, The "Polytone" and the Potentialities of a Purer Intonation, pg. 357). Throughout most of his life, Fickenscher devoted himself to developing an instrument that didn’t rely on equal temperament, but instead used pure intonation—this instrument would become his Polytone.

Fickenscher wasn’t alone in his desire to modernize tuning. In a 1922 letter, Marie Lippelt wrote to Arthur Fickenscher to describe the development and importance of a pure intonation keyboard, stating, “We are now at the threshold of a new era with regard to music” (Lippelt, May 15, 1922, pg. 2). Of course, we must take into consideration that Marie Lippelt wrote to Fickenscher with the hope that he would purchase one of their keyboards, meaning this "new era" of music also had financial implications for her and her team. Nevertheless, her letter demonstrates that Fickenscher’s experimentation with pure-tone keyboards was not an anomaly and that others were simultaneously pursuing the same goal. Clearly, many musicians, composers, and inventors alike believed that a pure-tone keyboard was long overdue and the logical next step in classical music—one that would fuel unprecedented growth and creativity for composers and musicians everywhere.

Fickenscher completed his Polytone in the years following this letter, and his instrument was seen as a marvel by many, most notably Percy Grainger. Grainger remarked, “Your ‘Polytone’ has given the onward-looking world of music an instrument for research, experiment and creative work with which (at last!) true intervallic progress can be made. … [The Polytone] is the very instrument that all progress-loving composers and students of music have been looking for so long. … It is the ideal instrument for the laboratory, the composer’s study, and the concert hall. Every self-respecting university and music school should not only possess your ‘Polytone’ for research purposes; they should hear you lecture on the aesthetic and scientific potentials of your glorious instrument and listen to the heart-searching loveliness of the sounds and combinations you induce from it. In wholehearted admiration of our epoch-making invention, Yours sincerely, Percy Grainger” (Grainger, October 28, 1932). Again, it’s worth mentioning that Grainger and Fickenscher were close friends and performed together often, so it's important to question whether Grainger wrote this letter as a friend or a composer. Nevertheless, it would be an understatement to say that Grainger believed Fickenscher and his invention were destined for greatness. He spoke of Fickenscher and the Polytone as if its invention were the most significant turning point in music history since the premiere of Beethoven’s Eroica. However, in hindsight, it’s clear that Fickenscher’s innovation never had the lasting impact Grainger described, and both Fickenscher and his Polytone have largely been forgotten outside UVA.

After reviewing these sources, one must ask: why has Fickenscher been so nearly forgotten? The documents housed at UVA’s Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library, detailing his Polytone and compositions, show that he lived as a successful composer and inventor. His Polytone was highly regarded, and his works were performed by ensembles across the country to positive acclaim. However, it is crucial to examine these sources critically and ask whether they present a full picture of Fickenscher’s career. It’s possible that the sources submitted to the Special Collections Library exaggerate his contributions to classical music as those contributing to the collection, namely Fickenscher’s own friends and family, are motivated by a desire to preserve his legacy in both UVA and classical music history. Additionally, it’s possible that the only surviving documents associated with Fickenscher are those that portray him in a positive light, as individuals close to him may have selectively preserved such materials. For example, the collection of reviews which I discussed previously, were Fickenscher’s own collection, and he likely only saved those that portrayed him favorably. Without thorough research of surviving sources beyond UVA’s collection, it’s impossible to form an unbiased understanding of Fickenscher, and any conclusions drawn from these sources alone may never honestly reflect his life and work.

Shortly after Fickenscher’s death, biographer Howald Bailey wrote, “In his lifetime, Dr. Fickenscher was a very modest, retiring man who often remarked that he would rather have his music appreciated after he was gone. … It is too soon to say what Arthur Fickenscher’s place in our musical heritage will be. Nonetheless, we of the University [of Virginia] can be content in the knowledge that our musical life here was enriched by his 21 years of devoted service” (Bailey, Arthur Fickenscher, pg. 7). Today, we know Fickenscher has fallen into obscurity, joining the many other musical figures who once led promising careers only to be largely forgotten after their deaths. I don’t believe this necessarily is a reflection of Fickenscher’s career but is instead representative of an ever-increasing oversaturation of talent in the music industry. Beginning Romanticism and followed by Modernism, music and music education became more accessible than ever before. Classical music was no longer confined to royal courts; suddenly, more people than ever could pursue a career in music. However, it must be mentioned that many were still excluded, particularly on the basis of sex and race. As more talent entered the field, it became increasingly difficult to stand out. Sadly, many of those who are remembered today were those with the biggest networks and most support and not necessarily the most talent.

Spending the past couple of weeks reading about Fickenscher has left me disappointed that his legacy remains confined to UVA. Now, I can’t help but question how many others like Fickenscher have been forgotten. It’s possible that the work of other Beethovens and Mozarts is hidden away in archives, having been undeservingly forgotten. The world of music history is too fixated on the contributions of a few dozen figures. There is room to remember the names of talented musicians, composers, and inventors who have been overlooked. Thankfully, there have been efforts to rediscover composers, like Florence Price, whose work has been rediscovered and performed by major orchestras in recent years. Special collections libraries like UVA’s have the potential to play a crucial role in this process. By revisiting archival materials, digitizing forgotten scores, and encouraging new performances of neglected works, institutions can help bring lost music and history back to life. Perhaps Fickenscher’s Polytone will never become the revolutionary instrument he envisioned, but his work deserves a second look. If we truly value musical history, we must go beyond the established canon and recognize the many talented individuals who, for reasons beyond their control, were left behind.