Deems Taylor is a mild-mannered person, of medium height, inclined
toward baldness, wears glasses, has what novelists describe as
well-chiselled features illumined by an expression of intentness,
emphasized by a firmly set lower jaw. As a man he sizes up extremely
well in a group of five, reading from left to right, showing the
Americans who had this past Spring been awarded Doctor’s degrees by
a great American University. His companions in this distinguished
cluster were the Chairman of the General Electric Company’s Board,
the President of the American Museum of Natural History, the
Secretary of State in President Coolidge’s cabinet, and the professor
of literature at Yale University.
In the eyes of his intimates the address of seriousness which he
presents to casual observers is but a mask. For they know him best
as a man of unfailing good humor, a philosopher who delights in the
whimsicalities of life and knows both how to fashion and enjoy a joke.
Mention has been made of Deems Taylor’s versatility. It is not
merely that he can do many things but it is because he does them
all superlatively well that this characteristic deserves stressing.
At various times he has functioned with outstanding success as a
newspaper-man, as critic, as linguist, as translator of prose and
poetry, as an artist capable of handling the brush and pen with
signal facility, as editor, as public speaker; and as a composer.
In the field of journalism, both in his technical musical criticisms
and in his articles on practical musical subjects he writes with
clarity of style, with matured authority and with disarming frankness
and sincerity. Here again his engaging spirit of good humor finds
expression to lighten the burden of his message.