Phonograph Monthly Review, Vol. 3, No. 4 (1929-01)

116 The Phonograph Monthly Review January, 1929 it; it was still practically the machine that Gericke had built up, with some additional training in flexibility and versatility. When Gericke returned he found that the rigid discipline so necessary during his first term was no longer so strongly de- manded and he was more free to realize his own ideas in the matter of interpretations. The earlier complaints against the severity of Gericke’s programs were resumed, but new works were gradually in- troduced in ever increasing numbers; those of Richard Strauss leading the way, to the amazement and horror of many who found the blatting sheep of Don Quixote and the turmoils and grandiose splendors of the Heldenleben exceedingly strong meat. Symphony Hall, for which plans were begun in 1893, was finally completed in 1900 and opened with considerable cere- mony. No longer were the draughts and fire hazards of the old building matters of import for the subscribers! The beauties and acoustic excellences of the new building, now so familiar to Bostonians, are well known. It has an indi- viduality and atmosphere of its own that can hardly be equal- led by any other concert hall in the country. The second balcony continued to be thrown open to the “rushers,” those who were willing to wait often hours, for the privilege of hearing the Boston Symphony Orchestra for a quarter. (Several years ago the price was doubled, but no abatement in enthusiasm was seen). Also about this time was the es- tablishment of the Pension Fund, for which contributions were received and benefit concerts given each year. Tickets for the subscription concerts which may be turned in by holders unable to use them are sold and the proceeds given to the Endowment Fund. The name of Mr. Gericke is bound up with that of the Boston Symphony. To him it owes much, as do the people of Boston; a debt which they have always amply recognized. A few seasons ago the Funeral March from Beethoven’s Eroica symphony was played twice; once in commemora- tion of Gericke and once in memory of Kniesel, for so many years his able lieutenant. Their death marks the passing of two of the orchestra’s greatest members. To fill the void left so achingly vacant by the resignation of Gericke, Dr. Karl Muck, by special permission of the Ger- man Emperor, was taken from the condustorship of the Royal Opera House in Berlin. Of his reign, interrupted by the term of Max Fiedler (another fine musician who gave a hearing to many new composers) it is hard to speak adequately. To many he represents the peak of musicianship and the perfection of the art of conducting. A man of broader sweep of mind and imagination, he went beyond Gericke in his ca- pacity for expression, while still keeping the same powerful grip on the technical abilities and training of the orchestra. His introduction of the “unified” program, by which a con- cert would leave a single, consistent impression on the mind of the listener, longer concerts and a greater variety of musi- cal works, the limitation on soloists that in every case they must be accompanied by the orchestra rather than a piano, and other innovations are but the externals of his services. His breadth of learning, the depth of his sympathy, the gran- deur of his conceptions were the true gifts which he had for Boston and the world. Despite the circumstances of his de- portation from the country in 1918 and all the insane hys- teria which war times and war time propaganda raised up, his place in the hearts of thousands of Bostonians and Ameri- cans has never been, and can never be, pre-empted. Dr. Muck was a Musician and a Man;—unfortunately, he was also a German at a time when this country became engaged in war with Germany. The Muck issue is past and done with now, we are told; certainly this is no place to dwell on it. But a past thing or not, it has not been forgotten, nor should it ever be so. Dr. Muck gave the best years of his life, the finest fruits of his genius to Boston; as to its grati- tude, let someone speak when the time is ripe. He is an old man now, broken and unhappy, appearing but seldom to conduct the works which he knows so well and can interpret so profoundly and with such divine insight. But he can rest assured that there are many—those who sat under his in- spired baton and those have heard of his readings only through the enthusiastic lips of their elders—who hold for him and will always hold for him the deepest respect, the greatest admiration, and the most whole-hearted lcfve. In 1918-1919, Henri Rabaud, the French composer, took the reins for a single season, to be succeeded by his countryman, Pierre Monteux, noted as a ballet conductor. To the latter fell the difficult task of rebuilding the orchestra y shattered by the departure of Dr. Muck and an unsuccessful strike to unionize the players. To his tremendous task he brought a keen musi- cal intelligence and patience. Music by contemporary com- posers, especially Frenchmen, and music of the dance was his special forte. Not a figure to command great public en- thusiasm nevertheless,his sturdy labors, his polished and graceful bearing won a deep respect and friendship from all who heard him. Particularly in the field of program-making he was almost unsurpassable. The list of new works which he introduced to America makes a splendid record. The bal- ance,. clarity, and Gallic salt which were his special charac- teristics gave many Americans a new outlook on music. In 1924, at the expiration of Monteux’s five-year contract, and after many mysterious rumors and false alarms came Serge Koussevitzky, famous as a virtuoso on the double-bass and as conductor of the “Concerts Koussevitzky” in Russia and France, also (to the horror of many of the Friday after noon “Old Guard”) an enthusiastic friend of ultra-modern works and composers. The old subscribers, appeased by the courtly French manner of Monteux in introducing new and monstrous experiments, were rather fearsomely titillated by the thoughts that some horrible new mechanistic art was to take the place of the “good old” music so familiar and loved. But they were agreeably disappointed; the dynamic person- ality and the dramatic power of Koussevitzky swept all be- fore him. There were new works, to be sure, but not so uncomprehensible after all, while to the old ones Koussevitzky brought new and daring ideas and readings, violently debated by some on first hearing, but which have had the undeniable effect of stimulating sluggish interest in “classics” which had begun to be taken as a matter of course. The features of Koussevitzky’s conductorship have been the enormous development of the orchestra’s technical and inter- pretative resources, the increased standing which concert tours have given it in other cities, the unprecedtented attendence, the generous attention given modern works, the renewed in- terest generated in the older ones, the increased number of purely orchestral or orchestral and choral concerts, and the elaborate observation of the centenaries of Beethoven in 1927 and Schubert in 1928. The festival on the occasion of the hundredth anniversary of Beethoven’s death was probably the most remarkable tribute ever undertaken in this country. Within the space of a week concerts were given which included the complete nine symphonies, the Missa Solemnis, a number of chamber music works, and commem- morative exercises for which Ernest Newman—invited from England for this particular purpose—made the principal ad- dress. During recent years the demand for seats has steadily aug- mented, and the “waiting lists” of prospective subscribers for season seats have grown to an alarming extent. The de- mand for concerts is difficult to assuage. To the regular se- ries of twenty-four pairs of concerts in Symphony Hall (Fri- day afternoons and Saturday evenings), must be added a series of nine concerts in Sander’s Theatre (Memorial Hall, Harvard University), Cambridge; two series of five concerts each in Symphony Hall on Monday evenings and Tuesday af- ternoons; Two or three pairs of Young Peoples’ Concerts; and two Pension Fund Concerts (customarily given in con- junction with the Harvard and Radcliffe choral societies). Outside Boston there are regular series of concerts in New York and Brooklyn, a series of five in Providence, two each in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and Washington, and one each in a number of other cities. Trips as far as to Chicago and Montreal are sometimes made, but of late an effort has been made to avoid as far as possible the more lengthly and weari- some trips. The strain on the conductor has become almost unbearably intense, and relieved only to a slight degree by the growing practice of inviting occasional guest conductors for a single concert, or Mr. Richard Burgin, Assistant Con- ductor and Concertmaster, as conductor for one pair of con- certs each season. During the season of 1925-1926 broad- casting of the Saturday evening concerts was begun and con- tinued until the present season, when it was discontinued. At the end of the regular season the far-famed “Pops” begin,—popular concerts at a nominal price at which there is opportunity for the enjoyment of refreshments, smoking, and conversation, as well as a diversified musical program.