is he related to German architect Peter Behrens

Collections Poster | Evan Seuren

Poster © Evan Seuren, UNI graphic design student (2014)

Frances Kilvert in William Plomer, ed., Kilvert's Diary. London: Jonathan Cape, 1960, p. 298—

One evening she [Dame Matthews] saw one of the farm men [named John] steal a pound of butter out of the dairy and put it into his hat, at the same moment clapping his hat upon his head.

"John," called the Dame. "John, come here. I want to speak to you." John came, carefully keeping his hat on his head. The Dame ordered some ale to be heated for him and bade him sit down in front of the roaring fire. John thanked his mistress and said he would have the ale another time, as he wanted to go home at once.

"No, John. Sit you down by the fire and drink some hot ale. 'Tis a cold night and I want to speak to you about the kine [cows]."

The miserable John, daring neither to take off his hat nor go without his mistress's leave, sat before the scorching fire drinking his hot ale til the melting butter in his hat began to run down all over his face. The Dame eyed him with malicious fun. "Now, John," she said, "you may go. I won't charge you anything for the butter."

Stravinsky on the Telephone

Above Separated at birth? (Left to right) German architect Peter Behrens (in a portrait by Max Liebermann, 1911), and designer Roy R. Behrens.

Below From Robert Craft, Stravinsky: Chronicle of a Friendship. Nashville TN: Vanderbilt University (1994), p. 188—

I.S [Stravinsky], telephoning the G. Wittenberg Surgical Appliances Company: "This is Mr. Stravinsky, S-T-R-A-" He spells it out loudly and deliberately, as he does when dictating a telegram. "Two years ago you fitted me with a truss. I want an appointment to have it repaired." He has dialed a wrong number, however, and the other party has apparently had to hear the entire speech without finding an opportunity to interrupt. I.S. ill-humoredly cradles the receiver, then carefully dials again. "This is Mr. Stravinsky, S-T-…" You made a …" The same party answers, very annoyed. Annoyed now himself, I.S. double-checks the number in his address book, finds it correct, still believes he has misdialed, tries again. "This is Mr.…" This time the man on the other end, no doubt believing himself the victim of a raving lunatic, slams down the receiver. At this point V. [Stravinsky's wife] discovers from the telephone directory that I.S. has miscopied the number.