The Mahler Broadcasts 1948-1982

NEW YORK PHILHARMONIC

Mahler in New York

Major Funding by

Rita E. and Gustave M. Hauser

Track Listing Track Listing D i s c 1 (68:22)

1 - 4 S y m p h o n y N o . 1 in D major 52:40

Sir John Barbirolli, conductor (January 10, 1959)

5 - 8 Lieder eines fahrenden Gesel len (Songs of a Wayfarer) 15:25

Will iam Steinberg, conductor; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone

(November 27 , 1964)

D i s c 2 (79 :53 )

1 - 5 S y m p h o n y N o . 2 in C minor ("Resurrection") for Orchestra,

S o p r a n o a n d Alto Solos , a n d M i x e d C h o r u s 79 :53

Zubin Mehta, conductor; Kathleen Battle, soprano;

Maureen Forrester, contralto (March 7, 1982)

D i s c 3 (75:49)

1 - 5 S y m p h o n y N o . 3 in D minor 97 :31

Pierre Boulez, conductor; Yvonne Minton, mezzo-soprano

(October 23 , 1976)

D i s c 4 (77:27)

1 S y m p h o n y N o . 3 in D minor (conclusion)

2 - 5 S y m p h o n y N o . 4 in G major , for Orchestra a n d S o p r a n o So lo 55:30

Georg Solti, conductor; Irmgard Seefried, soprano (January 13, 1962)

Disc 5 (73:02)

1 - 5 S y m p h o n y N o . 5 in C-sharp minor 73 :02

Klaus Tennstedt, conductor (June 18, 1980)

Disc 6 (73:30)

1 - 4 S y m p h o n y N o . 6 in A minor 73:30

Dimitr i Mitropoulos , conductor (April 10, 1955)

D i s c 7 (69:26)

1 - 4 S y m p h o n y N o . 7 in B minor 87:54

Rafael Kubelik, conductor (February 28 , 1981)

Disc 8 ( 7 6 : 4 4 )

1 S y m p h o n y N o . 7 in B minor (conclusion)

2 - 7 D a s L i ed v o n der Erde ( T h e S o n g o f the Earth) 58 :05

Bruno Walter, conductor; Kathleen Ferrier, mezzo-soprano;

Set Svanholm, tenor (January 18, 1948)

Disc 9 (78:00)

1 - 10 S y m p h o n y N o . 8 in E-flat m a j o r 7 8 : 0 0

Leopold Stokowski, conductor (April 9, 1950)

Disc 10 (79:50)

1 - 4 S y m p h o n y N o . 9 in D major 79:50

Sir J o h n Barbirolli, conductor (December 8, 1962)

Disc11(77:08)

S y m p h o n y N o . 10 in F-sharp minor 3 0 : 0 3

1 Andante—Adag io 25:41

Dimitri Mitropoulos , conductor (January 16, I 9 6 0 )

2 Purgatorio 4:17

Dimitr i Mitropoulos , conductor (March 16, 1958)

3 - 5 T h e C o n d u c t o r s Speak A b o u t Mahler 14:32

Bruno Walter, Leopold Stokowski, and Sir J o h n Barbirolli

6 - 9 Wi l l iam Malloch's "I R e m e m b e r Mahler" 106:28

Interviews with musicians who played under Mahler

(Broadcast by K P F K on July 7 , 1964)

Disc 12 (74 :18 )

1 - 10 Wi l l i am Malloch's "I R e m e m b e r Mahler" (conclusion)

Table of Contents F r o m t h e M u s i c D i r e c t o r Kurt Masur 8

G u s t a v M a h l e r : T h e U n a n s w e r e d Q u e s t i o n s Barbara Haws 1 2

A M a h l e r T i m e l i n e 1 6

M a h l e r a n d t h e N e w Y o r k P h i l h a r m o n i c :

T h e T r u t h B e h i n d t h e L e g e n d Henry-Louis de La Grange 22

N e w York's M u s i c a l C u l t u r e : T h e T r a n s f o r m a t i o n

o f an O r c h e s t r a Howard Shanet 56

M a h l e r a t t h e M e t Robert Tuggle 82

G u s t a v M a h l e r a n d t h e G u a r a n t o r s :

T h e M a n a g e m e n t o f G e n i u s Jack Kamerman 9 8

M a r y S h e l d o n : A W o m a n o f S u b s t a n c e Marion Casey 1 0 8

MAHLER AS CONDUCTOR

M a h l e r a s C o n d u c t o r : T h e N e w Y o r k P h i l h a r m o n i c P e r f o r m a n c e s 1 2 0

W h a t t h e C r i t i c s W r o t e , 1 9 0 9 - 1 9 1 1 1 3 2

M a h l e r ' s M a r k e d S c o r e s i n t h e N e w Y o r k

P h i l h a r m o n i c A r c h i v e s Paul Banks 1 4 0

W a r a n d P e a c e : T h e M a h l e r V e r s i o n Alan Rich 1 6 0

MAHLER AS COMPOSER

M a h l e r a s C o m p o s e r : T h e N e w Y o r k P h i l h a r m o n i c P e r f o r m a n c e s 1 7 6

B r u n o W a l t e r : P r o t e c t o r a n d P r o p h e t Erik Ryding 2 0 0

M i t r o p o u l o s , W a l t e r , a n d M a h l e r : A P l a y e r ' s P e r s p e c t i v e James Chambers 2 1 0

B e r n s t e i n ' s L a t e - N i g h t T h o u g h t s o n M a h l e r Jack Gottlieb 2 1 8

M a h l e r a t t h e N e w Y o r k P h i l h a r m o n i c :

T h e P l a y e r s R e m e m b e r Robert Sherman 2 3 0

A c k n o w l e d g m e n t s 2 4 5

Book cover:

Cover detail from Mahler's

copy of his First Symphony

(first edition Vienna:

Josef Weinberger, 1899)

Inside front cover:

A stylized "GM" used by

Mahler for his letterhead.

Right:

Mastheads from some

of the local newspapers that

preserved critical opinion of

Mahler's compositions and

conducting in New York.

From the Music Director

KURT MASUR

The secret of an orchestra's style, as conductors and players know, is passed down

from one generation to another by the musicians themselves and is based on

their shared experiences over the course of many years. T h e New York

Philharmonic is one of the world's leading Mahler orchestras, and its Mahler

tradition reaches back to Gustav Mahler himself, who conducted the Orchestra in his last

years and also served as its Music Director. Having maintained certain performing traditions

from Mahler's day up to the present, and having continually kept his work in the repertoire

throughout that period, the Orchestra has proven beyond any doubt its outstanding

commitment to his music.

The musicians of the New York Philharmonic play together as an astonishingly flexible

instrument. The performers are not just slavishly following the baton; when you make music 8

with them, they breathe together with you, instilling life into every phrase—and this is crucial

for Mahler. As for the Orchestras soloists, they are well-educated masters of their instruments

and repertoire; they know how to strike the right balance between independence and

ensemble playing. When you hear solos played by the horn, the trumpet, the oboe, the

clarinet, the flute, you discover that the Orchestra has many different personalities, yet they

all come together as a unified body in the collaborative effort of making symphonic music.

I myself have found that Mahler often inspires the best playing from the New York

Philharmonic. I remember the 10,000th concert in 1982, with Zubin Mehta conducting

Mahler's Second Symphony. This was long before I came here as the Music Director. It was

an incredible performance; in fact, I can hardly think of a more committed performance of

the "Resurrection" than that one, which is included in this collection. That performance,

incidentally, convinced me that the New York Philharmonic had not only great ability but

also a kind of honesty. The musicians were not only playing with startling accuracy and

beautiful sonority: they understood the spirit of Mahler's work.

Conducting Mahler with an orchestra like the New York Philharmonic is a particular

pleasure, because the Orchestra understands the music so deeply. If an orchestra doesn't

know the music through and through, doesn't feel the music, then you are forced to discuss

every phrase and every transition in too much detail, and the performance loses its

spontaneity. For Mahler's music you need a kind of freedom. In a performance, you have to

feel safe making transitions a little differently from what you did at the last rehearsal or the

last concert. You have to feel free to be spontaneous. With the New York Philharmonic, I

breathe, and everybody breathes with me.

It is well known that Mahler was much aware of death, and his awareness is made evident

in his music—think, for example, of his funeral marches. A number of Mahler's close

relations died young. Yet there is also a very real affirmation of life in his symphonies. I feel

that people in his time were aware of their mortality because they wanted to be aware, in

order to appreciate and savor the life that they had. If you wake up every morning and feel

grateful to see the sun again, you will know that every day is a gift. Every religion in the

world grapples with the problem of life's brevity. If we lived eternally, maybe we would

underestimate the gifts we have. But since we know we are granted only a limited time in

this world, we try to reconcile ourselves to our mortality and to discover a purpose in our

lives. Mahler confronted the problem in a wonderful way on two occasions—in the

"Abschied" of Das Lied von der Erde, with the words ewig, ewig ("forever, forever"), and in

the last movement of the Ninth Symphony, which without the use of words also transmits

the message of ewig, the confrontation with eternity. As you will hear in the performances

gathered on this set, the Orchestra has long known Mahler's message. The earliest broadcast

we present, Das Lied von der Erde under Bruno Walter, dates back half a century, and we can

already sense the players' deep understanding of this great composer's art and philosophy, an

understanding that had developed over the course of several decades and that extends, as the

other broadcasts prove, up to the present day.

As with our first collection of broadcast recordings, we are deeply indebted to Gus and

Rita Hauser, true friends of the New York Philharmonic, for their generous support, without

which we could not preserve these historic performances.

1O 11

Under Kurt Masur the New York Philharmonic has recorded Mahler's First and Ninth

Symphonies, as well as the Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen with Håkan Hagegård , for Teldec.

Gustav Mahler: The Unanswered Questions

by BARBARA HAWS

Did Mahler's conducting venture in New York make a lasting impact on the

City and the Philharmonic? Did the New York musicians he hired and trained

leave an enduring impression on the musicians that followed decades later?

Can we hear the ghost of Gustav Mahler in present-day Philharmonic

performances? Some would answer in the absolute affirmative while others would be

vehemently skeptical. It is this lack of consensus, this ambiguity that makes interpreting the

The continuity of the Philharmonic's Mahler tradition is demonstrated in this snapshot,

in which the musicians' tenure extends from Mahler to Mehta. Back row: (left to right)

Roberto Sensale (1923-57), Benjamin Kohon (1908-43), Simon Kovar (1923-49); middle

row: Bruno Labate (1908-43), Engelbert Brenner (1931-72), Albert Goltzer (1938-84);

front row: Martin Ormandy (1929-66), and William L. Feder (1921-49). 12

Mahler tradition in New York so rich. What we learned when we started delving into this

topic was that our assumptions of the past were not necessarily holding true: Was Mahler

miserable in New York? Were the women "Guarantors" running the Philharmonic in 1909

predatory ogres who contributed to Mahler's death? Did the audiences despise and avoid

Mahler's music prior to 1960? Was it even possible to hear Mahler's music before Bernstein?

Just when a particular answer seemed to be at hand, a new piece of evidence, or a varied

interpretation, or even a new personality once overlooked emerged to start the questions

coming once again.

These essays discuss both Mahler as a conductor in New York and the evolving reaction

over the last 90 years to Mahler the composer. As the keeper of and chief explorer in the

Archives of the New York Philharmonic, I have often been struck by the way history has been

rewritten by myth and personal perception. What began as a companion book to

complement the 1 2 - C D set grew to be a scholarly study investigating myriad questions from

inconsistencies that kept popping up.

Since the Philharmonic has been fairly assiduous about keeping the smallest details of its

history, we knew it would be useful to share all of the performance and recording data that

had been accumulated in the Archives. We then started asking and investigating what others

thought about the place of New York and the Philharmonic in the Mahler lore. We asked

Maestro Masur to recount his impressions when standing before the same Orchestra where

Mahler had been Music Director. We were also intrigued to see that Henry-Louis de La

Grange provided a point of view that confirmed what we saw in the contemporary

newspaper reviews: Mahler was a success at the Philharmonic and even expressed pleasure at

being in New York. But in so many accounts on Mahler, the rich, vital, and sophisticated

New York musical life that had preceded him is overlooked.

To place Mahler in a context, we turned to the Philharmonic's longtime historian,

Howard Shanet. After hearing of the discoveries that Jack Kamerman and Marion Casey had

made regarding the Guarantors (those who ran the Philharmonic in 1909) , Bob Tuggle,

Director of Archives at the Metropolitan Opera, revealed that there was new information at

the Met that he didn't think existed anywhere else: "Mahler at the Met" was immediately

brought into the fold. We then searched to find physical evidence of Mahler himself and so

turned to Paul Banks to help sift through our enormous score and part collection. One of

the myths we were laboring under—which was not borne out by our Mahler performance

list or the papers of Mengelberg, Walter, Mitropoulos, and Stokowski—was that there were

virtually no performances of Mahler prior to Leonard Bernstein. We did find that even

though these ardent Mahler champions were performing his works, it was in the face of

unrelenting critical attacks. The Philharmonic musicians themselves, both present and past,

rounded out our community of collaborators with matchless anecdotes and insights.

These accounts and essays when read together do not always arrive at the same

conclusions—the differences may be subtle, but they still exist. Have we found all that we

set out to find? Absolutely not. There are more reviews to interpret, more box-office receipts

to assess, more personal diaries to track down, more scores to pore through, more lists to

decipher. But we had to stop somewhere, and as everyone knows, Mr. Mahler and New York

are both very complicated subjects. •

Barbara Haws, Archivist/Historian of the New York Philharmonic since 1984, is the Executive

Producer of the New York Philharmonic Special Editions recording label. 14

15

1860

1875

1880

1884-85

1885-86

1886

1889

1891

JULY 7 Gustav Mahler bom in Kalischt, Bohemia. Son of Bernhard Mahler (1827-1889) and Marie Mahler, née Hermann (1837-1889). One of 14 children, of whom eight died in infancy

SEPTEMBER Enters Conservatory of the Society of the Friends of Music in Vienna (diploma: June 1878)

SUMMER First appointment as conductor (Hall, Upper Austria) OCTOBER Completes Das klagende Lied (first version)

Composes Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Conductor at the German Theater, Prague

AUGUST Appointed as Second Conductor at the Leipzig Municipal Theater JANUARY 20 Leipzig: Conducts first performance of Carl Maria von Weber's opera Die drei Pintos (supplemented and revised by GM) MARCH Completes First Symphony AUGUST First version of Totenfeier (later revised as first movement of the Second Symphony)

NOVEMBER 20 Budapest: GM premieres his First Symphony

MARCH Resigns from Budapest; appointment as First Conductor in Hamburg

1892

1893

1894

1895

1896

1897

1898

1900

1901

1902

1903

1904

JUNE-JULY London, Royal Opera, Covent Garden: GM conducts 18 guest performances

SUMMER Works on the Second Symphony (in Steinbach am Attersee)

SUMMER Composes last movement of the Second Symphony

SUMMER Composes second to sixth movements of Third Symphony DECEMBER 13 Berlin: GM premieres his Second Symphony

SUMMER Completes first movement of Third Symphony

APRIL GM leaves Hamburg and becomes Conductor of the Vienna Court Opera OCTOBER Appointed Artistic Director of the Vienna Court Opera

NOVEMBER 6 First concert with the Vienna Philharmonic

SUMMER Completes Fourth Symphony (Maiernigg am Wörthersee)

FEBRUARY 17 Vienna: GM premieres Das klagende Lied SUMMER Works on the Fifth Symphony and songs NOVEMBER 25 Munich: GM premieres his Fourth Symphony

MARCH 9 Marries Alma Maria Schindler (1879-1964) JUNE 9 Krefeld, Germany: GM premieres his Third Symphony SUMMER Completes Fifth Symphony

NOVEMBER 3 Birth of his daughter, Maria Anna (1902-1907)

SUMMER Works on Sixth Symphony

OCTOBER GM's first performance with the Concertgebouw Orchestra, Amsterdam

JUNE 15 Birth of his second daughter, Anna Justine (1904-1988) SUMMER Completes Sixth Symphony; begins Seventh Symphony

A Mahler Timeline compiled by MICHELE SMITH

16 17

1905

1906

1907

1908

1909

1910

OCTOBER 18 Cologne: GM premieres his Fifth Symphony NOVEMBER 6 New York: Walter Damrosch conducts United States premiere of GM's Fourth Symphony with the New York Symphony Society

MARCH 24 Cincinnati: Frank van der Stucken conducts United States premiere of Fifth Symphony with Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra SUMMER Completes Seventh Symphony

FEBRUARY 15 New York: Wilhelm Gericke conducts New York premiere of GM's Fifth Symphony with the Boston Symphony Orchestra MAY 27 Essen: GM premieres his Sixth Symphony SUMMER Works on Eighth Symphony

MAY Resigns as Director of the Vienna Court Opera JULY 12 Death of his elder daughter; GM diagnosed as having heart disease DECEMBER 21 Arrives in New York; stays at Majestic Hotel

JANUARY 1 New York: GM's conducting debut at the Metropolitan Opera (Tristan und Isolde) SUMMER Works on Das Lied von der Erde (Toblach, South Tyrol) SEPTEMBER 19 Prague: GM premieres his Seventh Symphony DECEMBER 8 New York: GM conducts United States premiere of his Second Symphony with New York Symphony Society

SPRING Accepts contract as Conductor of reorganized New York Philharmonic SUMMER Works on Ninth Symphony NOVEMBER 4 Gives first concert as Conductor of the New York Philharmonic DECEMBER 16 New York: GM conducts United States premiere of his First Symphony with the New York Philharmonic

FEBRUARY 23 GM conducts first United States tour with the New York Philharmonic SUMMER Sketches for the Tenth Symphony (unfinished) AUGUST 25-28 GM consults Siegmund Freud in Leiden SEPTEMBER 12 Munich: GM conducts premiere of his Eighth Symphony 18

1911

1912

1914

1916

1920

1921

1922

NOVEMBER 1 Opens his second New York Philharmonic season DECEMBER 5 GM conducts his second United States tour with the New York Philharmonic

JANUARY 17 New York: GM conducts the New York premiere of his Fourth Symphony with the New York Philharmonic FEBRUARY 21 New York: GM conducts for the last time MAY 18 Mahler dies in Vienna at 11:05 p.m. NOVEMBER 20 Munich: Bruno Walter premieres Das Lied von der Erde

JUNE 26 Vienna: Walter premieres GM's Ninth Symphony with the Vienna Philharmonic

MAY 9 Cincinnati: Ernst Kunwald conducts United States premiere of GM's Third Symphony with the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra

MARCH 2 Philadelphia: Leopold Stokowski conducts United States premiere of the Eighth Symphony with Philadelphia Orchestra APRIL 9 New York: Stokowski conducts Philadelphia Orchestra in New York premiere of the Eighth Symphony DECEMBER 14 Philadelphia: Stokowski conducts United States premiere of Das Lied von der Erde with the Philadelphia Orchestra

MAY 6-21 Amsterdam: Willem Mengelberg conducts eight concerts of GM's orchestral works with Concertgebouw OCTOBER 4-21 Vienna: Oskar Fried conducts Mahler cycle at Vienna Konzertverein (all symphonies except Eighth)

APRIL 15 Chicago: Frederick Stock conducts United States premiere of GM's Seventh Symphony with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra

FEBRUARY 1 New York: Artur Bodanzky conducts the New York premiere of Das Lied von der Erde with the Friends of Music FEBRUARY 28 New York: Mengelberg conducts New York premiere of GM's Third Symphony with New York Philharmonic 19

1 9 2 3 MARCH 8 New York: Mengelberg conducts New York premiere of GM's Seventh

Symphony with New York Philharmonic

1 9 2 4 OCTOBER 12 Vienna: Franz Schalk conducts the premiere of the Adagio and Purgatorio

movements of GM's Tenth Symphony (Krenek edition)

1 9 2 6 DECEMBER 2 New York: Mengelberg conducts New York Philharmonic's first performance

of GM's Fifth Symphony

1 9 2 9 JANUARY 3 New York: Mengelberg conducts New York Philharmonic's first performance

of Das Lied von der Erde

1 9 3 1 OCTOBER 16 Boston: Serge Koussevitzky conducts United States premiere of GM's

Ninth Symphony with Boston Symphony Orchesrra

NOVEMBER 19 New York: Koussevitzky conducts New York premiere of GM's Ninth

Symphony with Boston Symphony Orchestra

1 9 4 2 JANUARY 4-APRIL 12 New York: Emo Rapee conducts eight concerts in Mahler Festival

at Radio City Music Hall with Radio City Music Hall Symphony and Schola Cantorum

1 9 4 5 DECEMBER 20 New York: Walter conducts New York Philharmonic's first performance of

GM's Ninth Symphony

1 9 4 7 DECEMBER 11 New York: Dimitri Mitropoulos conducts United States premiere of GM's

Sixth Symphony with the New York Philharmonic

1 9 4 9 DECEMBER 6 Erie, Pennsylvania: Fritz Mahler conducts the United States premiere of the

Adagio and Purgatorio movements of GM's Tenth Symphony (Krenek edition)

1 9 5 0 APRIL 6 New York: Stokowski conducts the New York Philharmonic's first performance

of GM's Eighth Symphony

20 1 9 5 8 MARCH 13 New York: Mitropoulos conducts New York premiere of the Adagio and

Purgatorio movements of GM's Tenth Symphony (Krenek edition)

1 9 5 9 - 6 0 DECEMBER 31 -APRII , 24 New York: New York Philharmonic Mahler Festival (36 concerts

by Mitropoulos, Leonard Bernstein, and Walter) commemorating the 100th

Anniversary of Mahler's birth and the 50th Anniversary of his first season as Music

Director of the New York Philharmonic

1 9 6 4 A U G U S T 13 London: Bertold Goldschmidt conducts premiere of GM's entire Tenth

Symphony (Deryck Cooke edition) with the London Symphony Orchestra

1 9 6 5 NOVEMBER 5 Philadelphia: Eugene Ormandy conducts United States premiere of the

entire Tenth Symphony (Cooke edition) with the Philadelphia Orchestra

1 9 6 8 APRIL 25 New York: William Steinberg conducts New York Philharmonic premiere of

GM's Tenth Symphony (Cooke edition)

1 9 7 6 SEPTEMBER 26-OcTOBER 25 New York: New York Philharmonic Mahler Festival at

Carnegie Hall. Nine concerts of symphonies and songs conducted by Erich Leinsdorf,

James Levine, and Pierre Boulez

21

Mahler and the New York Philharmonic:

The Truth Behind the Legend

by HENRY-LOUIS DE LA GRANGE

Before coming to Mahler the musician, let me say a word or two about Mahler the

man. My view, acquired in the course of 40 years of intensive research, while

reading several thousand books, letters, reports, reminiscences, articles, reviews,

after writing some three or four thousand pages of biography, is that Mahler was

not the morbid, tormented neurotic he is so often depicted to have been. True, Freud

believed that artistic creation was always in some way connected with neurosis. The great

composers of the past could all have been considered as neurotic, in one way or other, but

22 Mahler in New York, 1909.

Mahler was no more so than Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, or Brahms for instance,

certainly far less than Bruckner or Tchaikovsky.

A knowledge of Mahler's personality and behavior in everyday life, of his courage in the

face of adversity, of the dignity, the reserve he displayed when fate struck hardest, all these

traits of character make nonsense of the traditional image. The origin of the legend can easily

be detected: Alma survived Mahler by some 50 years. Whereas he never wrote or spoke about

his relationship to Alma, she later published two books which describe Mahler as an "ascetic,"

a sickly man for whom all pleasures were suspect, to whom, furthermore, his daughter's death

and the heart specialist's diagnosis were deadly blows. The somber nature of some of Mahler's

most popular works, such as the Kindertotenlieder and Das Lied von der Erde, helped

propagate a legend that appealed to the preference most of us secretly harbor for the easy and

simplistic image rather than the more complicated but less romantic reality. Thus Mahler

became known as a typical fin-de-siècle artist, morbid, tormented, forever obsessed with the

sad realities of human destiny and tortured by the demon of introspection.

The real Mahler did indeed suffer all his life from two chronic ailments, hemorrhoids

and inflamed tonsils, but they in no way prevented him from leading an intensely active life.

The real Mahler had more than a normal person's ration of vigor and stamina. The real

Mahler enjoyed putting his physical strength and endurance to the test: he loved to swim

long distances, climb mountains, take endless walks, and go on strenuous bicycle tours. He

of course led three different and simultaneous lives, and pursued three different careers—

that of virtuoso conductor, that of theater director, and that of composer. And what is more,

his inflexible idealism, his practice of music as a religion, did not allow him to consider any

of them as a minor activity on which he could permit himself to husband his resources.

Mahler was incapable of sparing himself, of not seeking perfection in every realm. But that

surely is the normal state of mind of all great creative artists.

When, in 1907, Mahler accepted the post offered him at the Metropolitan Opera, his

eldest daughter was still alive. However, by the time he left for the United States six months

later, he had indeed suffered three blows: his child's death, the doctors' diagnosis of his weak

heart, and the attitude of the Viennese administration, which had done little or nothing to

keep him at the head of the Opera. At that time America had a bad reputation among

German and Austrian musicians. T h e United States had surely been described to him, in

terms of the European cliché, as "the land of the almighty dollar." Richard Strauss, who had

earlier conducted a symphony concert in Wanamaker's, the large New York department

store, during shopping hours, could not take Mahler seriously when he spoke of his fears

that he would not be understood in America. He had merely replied: "But my dear Mahler,

you are and will always remain a child! Over there, all one does is climb on to the podium,

do this [gestures of a conductor], and then this [gesture of counting money]."

Assuredly, Mahler was a realist as well as an idealist, and his decision to leave for New

York was not only motivated by his desire to turn his back on Vienna and Europe. He was

anxious to earn money for his family and to curtail his professional activities, so as to have

more time to compose. Although he had, before leaving the Vienna Opera, received offers

from other European institutions, the disappointments he had experienced there were such

that he longed to start anew on another continent.

However, Mahler's career at the Metropolitan Opera is not part of my subject in this

essay. What matters is that he earned his greatest and most unanimous triumph there on 20

March 1908 with Fidelio, a work more admired than loved, which had never been popular 24 25

anywhere in the world. There was a tremendous outburst of applause after the Leonore

Overture N o . 3: Henry Taylor Parker, of the Boston Evening Transcript, thought that "more

than rediscovered," Fidelio had been "born anew" after having "fallen in musty disrepute at

the Met." T h e New York Evening Sun wrote: "Tremendous, nothing less, was the rapt

attention. . . . T h e house went crazy in the dark. T h e riot over Mahler equaled that over

Caruso in Il Trovatore." T h e next day, Mahler was praised by the overwhelming majority of

critics, more enthusiastically, perhaps, than he had ever been in Europe.

Despite the Met's shortcomings at the time, Mahler enjoyed his first months in New

York. He was delighted therefore when, towards the end of his second season at the Met, new

plans for his future in New York developed as an aftermath of the memorable performance

of Fidelio, and particularly of the third Leonore Overture. Mrs. George Sheldon, the wife of

a New York banker who was closely associated with J. P. Morgan, had been so impressed that

she decided that "Mr. Mahler's influence was deeply felt at the Metropolitan Opera House

this winter and it would be a pity if he should not have a chance to conduct purely orchestral

music with an orchestra of his own" (New York Times, 19 April 1908) . The original plan was

to create a Mahler orchestra, but eventually it was found wiser to reorganize the oldest New

York orchestral society, the Philharmonic.

Since he had left the Vienna Philharmonic in 1901 , Mahler had conducted many

orchestras as a guest, but he had not had one entirely in his hands. In any case, a symphonic

vehicle such as the Boston Symphony, which gave far more concerts in a season than the

average European orchestra, was something European conductors could only dream of. After

Special Symphony Society Bulletin announcing Mahler's impending concerts, 1908. 26

a whole life spent in the "penitentiary" of opera houses, Mahler was of course delighted by

Mrs. Sheldon's unexpected proposal. However, when it was made to him, he had already

been negotiating for some time with Walter Damrosch, who planned to engage him to

conduct three concerts with the New York Symphony Orchestra.

The short period of time during which Mahler negotiated with both Damrosch and Mrs.

Sheldon was to have unforeseeable and highly negative consequences for Mahler's New York

career. Henry Krehbiel later wrote in his vicious obituary of Mahler: "While still under

contract to the Symphony Orchestra he entered into an arrangement with a committee of

women to give three concerts with the orchestra of the Philharmonic Society." T h e truth is

that, at the time when the Philharmonic's proposal was made, during the last two weeks of

March 1908, Mahler was not "under contract." He had merely accepted to conduct some

concerts with Damrosch's orchestra at the beginning of the next season. On 22 or 23 March,

he asked Damrosch for a 10 days' respite before signing his contract with the Symphony,

but did not reveal the cause of this delay, and for a very obvious reason: Mrs. Sheldon had

sworn him to secrecy as long as nothing was settled. But Damrosch did not even have to

wait for 10 days. A week later, on 1 April, he received a letter from the Ladies' Committee's

lawyer asking him whether Mahler could accept their offer to conduct three "tryout"

concerts with the Philharmonic in the autumn. Damrosch quite naturally refused, and an

agreement was reached by which Mahler would conduct three concerts with the Symphony

Orchestra in the Autumn of 1908, and two Philharmonic concerts in the spring of 1909.

Although Krehbiel later accused Mahler of having "neglected his legal and moral

obligations," Mahler's correspondence with Damrosch does not provide the slightest

evidence that his behavior had at any time or in any way been dishonest or in any way

unethical. Be that as it may, subsequent events were to show that Damrosch never forgave

him for having delayed the negotiations without informing him of Mrs. Sheldon's offer.

Damrosch proceeded to do everything in his power to make sure that Mahler's three

concerts with the Symphony in the autumn failed miserably. Reginald de Koven wrote in

the New York World, the day after the performance of the Second Symphony: "Herr Mahler,

as 1 hear, was reported to have said that his conducting yesterday was something of a farce,

as the members of the orchestra neither came nor stayed at rehearsals, as he wished them to."

No effort of any kind was made to advertise the three concerts, Damrosch's intention

obviously being to prove that Mahler's presence on the podium would not attract the public.

Thus the hall was half empty for the first concert. Max Smith recalled how liberal the

Damrosch brothers had always been with free tickets for their concerts whenever the sales

had not been adequate. "Why shouldn't a Sunday concert with Mahler draw at least as big

a crowd as a Sunday concert with Damrosch?" he asked. "Are we to believe that a man of

Damrosch's social friendships can fill Carnegie Hall more readily by waving a baton than a

man of Mahler's musical greatness? . . . Is it established that his [Damrosch's] pretty graces

as conductor exert a greater attraction on a New York public than Mahler's genius?" Worse

still, according to Max Smith, the orchestra's "ragged playing" made it "obvious that the men

playing for him had not learned their task properly in the time allotted for rehearsing." They

had been only partially able to "respond to demands so highly wrought and so quietly

suggested. . . . To play smoothly, precisely and euphoniously under the guidance of a man

who beats time like a metronome is far different than answering with equal exactness and

beauty the demands of a conductor whose interpretations are impregnated with significant

detail." Henry Krehbiel was the only critic to claim that the orchestra performed well in 28 29

spite of Mahler's conducting.

Walter Damrosch's father, Leopold, had founded the New York Symphony in 1878 and

conducted it until his death in 1885. Walter had succeeded his father at the age of 23 and

had very soon revealed a remarkable talent as an organizer, a lecturer, and a money-raiser, if

not as a conductor. He had married the daughter of James Blaine, one of America's most

famous—if most controversial—politicians. Blaine was an intimate friend of Andrew

Carnegie, and Damrosch had persuaded the millionaire-philanthropist to build the concert

hall that bore his name. For the New York Symphony's 28 concerts per year, it was

Damrosch's policy to engage famous soloists and to introduce a great number of new works.

However, although the orchestra had been "reorganized" in 1907 and now gave 34 concerts

a season in New York, its level of performance was low because the musicians were engaged

only for a seven-month season and a long tour; substitutes often played for them at rehearsals

and concerts; these were insufficiently rehearsed; and, most important of all, Damrosch

himself was neither a very demanding nor a very talented conductor. His habit of making

introductory speeches on the podium had exasperated some of the orchestra's most generous

patrons, such as J. P. Morgan. Arthur Judson, the concert magnate and head of Columbia

Concerts, once told me in the 1950s that that was the reason why the famous banker and

collector was so easily persuaded to switch allegiance from the Symphony to the

Philharmonic when Mrs. Sheldon asked him for his support.

T h e Philharmonic and the Symphony were longtime rivals and competitors. Both

Theodore Spiering, Mahler's concertmaster, who conducted the balance of Mahler's

Philharmonic concerts in 1911 after the ailing conductor returned to Vienna. 30

orchestras played in the same hall and often recruited the same extra musicians. It was

obvious from the start that Walter Damrosch had everything to lose from the reorganization

of the Philharmonic, from the increase in the number of concerts it would give per year, and

from the presence on the podium of a conductor of Mahler's stature.

To prove that Mahler was no asset, Damrosch divulged the financial results of his three

concerts given in the autumn with the Symphony in an interview that was published early

in 1909 in Musical America: they had cost $ 10,000 and brought in only $4 ,300 . Three years

later, in his obituary, Krehbiel followed suit: Mr. Mahler was an expensive and unprofitable

proposition, and a case of large outlay and small income. Without perhaps realizing it,

Mahler was entering a true battlefield, the survival of the two societies being at stake.

The first two Philharmonic concerts, which took place in March/April 1909, augured

well for the future. The performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony was well received, but

it convinced Mahler that changes in personnel were indispensable in the ranks of the

orchestra. Nearly 5 0 % of the musicians were replaced before Mahler's first season began.

The plans for the reorganization of the Orchestra were ambitious, too ambitious perhaps.

The number of Philharmonic concerts per season was to be raised from 18 to 46 , the

orchestra was to travel regularly to Brooklyn and Philadelphia, and to tour New England.

T h e eight Thursday evening subscription concerts were to be repeated on Friday afternoons.

Three cycles (six historical concerts, five Beethoven concerts, five Sunday popular concerts)

brought the total number of New York concerts to 35 . N o w the Philharmonic's avowed aim

was to provide the city with an orchestra comparable in quality to the Boston Symphony,

and an orchestral institution as respected as the Met. This was the main reason for Mahler's

engagement as musical director. Theodore Spiering, the concert-master whom Mahler had

engaged on Fritz Krieler's recommendation, recalled the tremendous enthusiasm with which

he started to rehearse in the autumn of 1909.

The first concert, on 4 November, was very well received by the audience, and the

reviews were mostly favorable. Even Mahler's enemies agreed that his orchestra was

becoming "a joyful, responsive and flexible instrument" (New York Sun). However, on 16/17

December 1909, Mahler made a hazardous decision in including his own First Symphony

in the program of the regular subscription concerts. New York was no more prepared than

Europe had been for an "ironic" Funeral March, for the innocence of the first movement

and the hurricanes in the Finale, and the majority of reviews were scathing. Furthermore,

this performance was to transform the already hostile Krehbiel into a mortal enemy. He was

in charge of the program notes for the Philharmonic concerts, and he asked Mahler for

permission to reprint a letter of his which Ernst Ot to Nodnagel, Mahler's self-appointed

analyst, had quoted some years earlier in Germany in a text concerning the First Symphony.

Mahler, whose hostility to "program music" had increased with the years and was by now

firmly established, denied having ever written such a letter and would not allow any program

notes at all to be published. Krehbiel's answer came in the form of two articles. One of them

filled a whole page of the New York World. It was a bitter assault on Mahler as a "program

musician" ashamed of being so. From then on until Mahler's last concert in New York,

Krehbiel's attacks never ceased.

Mahler's daily life during the first and second Philharmonic season can be described as

far more relaxed and sociable than it ever had been in Europe. He and Alma went to dinner

parties, attended large gatherings in several millionaires' mansions, and made a great number

of new friends and acquaintances. Mahler was undoubtedly working much harder than he 32 33

had during the two previous seasons, yet he wrote optimistic letters to his family and friends

informing them that he had never felt better and that he enjoyed his work. The Mahler

whom an anonymous journalist interviewed at the end of March 1910, at the end of a long

and trying season of concerts, was neither exhausted nor depressed:

The energy that inspires Mr. Mahler was manifest last week, when a Tribune

representative visited him in his apartment in the Hotel Savoy. Mr. Mahler was

alone at the time, and he was forced to answer his doorbell a dozen times during

the course of the interview. A father arrived who wished the conductor to hear his

son play the cello; packages kept coming; telephone calls galore regarding

rehearsals, and from persons who wanted interviews—yet, though he answered

them all, he never seemed out of patience . . . "Excuse me but this afternoon I

must be my own servant. "

The journalist summed up Mahler's character as that of "a skeptical enthusiast. He sees

the transitory nature of all things. He feels that nothing really endures. Yet he admires, he

admires enthusiastically all genuine self-expression."

On 6 and 7 January 1910, Mahler scored one of the greatest triumphs in his entire career

with a concert featuring Busoni as soloist. T h e program, on each of the two evenings,

The last of a six-page letter, circa 1909, from Gustav Mahler to Richard Arnold, then

Concertmaster and Vice-President of the Philharmonic, detailing his programming ideas for

his first season, which included performances by Busoni and Maud Powell. 35

included Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique, Beethoven's Fifth Piano Concerto and the

Meistersinger Prelude. The editors of Musical America were so overwhelmed that they

reprinted all the reviews in extenso, thus filling no fewer than five large pages of their second

January issue. Busoni records in a letter that one of the Commit tee ladies expressed her

disapproval of the performance at a rehearsal, but Mahler does not appear to have taken her

criticisms seriously.

A more embarrassing accident occurred at the end of January. Mahler had invited as

soloist for the Schumann Piano Concerto a gifted but eccentric German pianist of

Hungarian origin named Josef Weiss. During the dress rehearsal, it seems that Mahler

congratulated him with more politeness than conviction at the beginning of the second

movement (according to one of the versions of the incident reported in New York America).

Weiss took offense, flew into a rage, threw his score to the floor, and left the stage. A cartoon

depicting the scene appeared the next day in the press, and one can sense the Committee

ladies' disapproval between the lines of the newspaper reports. It is clear that they found such

an incident incompatible with the dignity of the institution.

The first Philharmonic season ended with an epoch-making performance of Beethoven's

Ninth Symphony. This was infinitely superior to the performance of the previous year, and

proved conclusively how much the orchestra had improved under Mahler's "iron rule." This

was acknowledged by the immense majority of critics, except of course Krehbiel, who chose

not to review—and probably not to attend—the concert at all. Unfortunately, the financial

results of the season were disappointing. The hall had often been less than half full for many

of the concerts. Walter Rothwell, the conductor of the Saint Paul Symphony Orchestra,

commented as follows about the New York musical public:

There is only one city in America which I cannot understand, and that is New

York. I cannot believe it possible that I have seen correctly the audiences at the

three Philharmonic concerts I attended. In Europe, people would have traveled

miles, yes hundreds of miles, to hear Mahler conduct the Ninth Symphony . . .

that he should be here and that his concerts should not be of more importance to

people supposed to care for music, shows that you have not the audience in New

York that I thought you had because to manifest an indifference when Mahler

gives something of himself is not possible to people who really appreciate and

understand music for itself.

Ernst Jokl, a Berlin journalist who attended several of Mahler's concerts in the closing

weeks of the season, also complained of the audience, "the majority of whom arrived late

and left before the end of the performance." Yet Jokl had been struck by the way in which

Mahler "identified with the works." "He was resigned (to such indifference)," but "his

temperament and his strength were unaffected, indeed perhaps all the more concentrated

and intensified."

Clearly, the Philharmonic concerts had not yet become an essential part of New York's

musical life. This is perhaps hardly surprising after only one season and the steep increase in

the number of concerts. It was then rumored in the press that Mahler would perhaps not

renew his contract. The deficit had practically wiped out the entire amount of the Guarantee

Fund ($90,000) . However, the Guarantors felt it would take more time for a new public to

develop, and persuaded three generous sponsors, Joseph Pulitzer, J. P. Morgan, and Andrew 36 37

Carnegie, to make further large contributions for the following season. A number of

important new measures were taken. The first, which had been strongly recommended by

Mahler, was the hiring of a professional business manager named Loudon Charlton. The

second was the engagement of a number of new players (18 percent of the personnel was

thus renewed). T h e third was another large increase in the number of concerts, which tends

to prove that neither the Commit tee nor Mahler had been disheartened by the results of the

preceding season. Both knew they were engaged in a pioneering venture which could not be

expected to succeed in so short a time. In a letter to his sister Justi, Mahler made the

following comment about the first Philharmonic season: "For me, everything went

remarkably well this year and I myself am amazed how well I bore all the exertions. I am

definitely more capable of work—and happier than I have been in the last 10 years."

During the summer of 1910, Mahler suffered in his personal life one of the most brutal

blows that fate had yet inflicted on him. He suddenly discovered that his wife had been

unfaithful to him. Far from repenting, she blamed him in large part for her conduct, and

confronted him with a catalogue of the innumerable grievances she had borne against him

over the years. Those painful summer months have sometimes been called unproductive by

people who forget that during them Mahler composed the entire Tenth Symphony (what he

left uncompleted would have been finished in a matter of days, excluding of course the

orchestration). He also learnt 73 new scores by 17 composers, all of which he was to conduct

during the following season. After crossing half of Europe to consult Freud about his

relationship with Alma, he spent the first half of September in Munich, rehearsing and

Alma Mahler, with her daughters Maria and Anna, circa 1907. 38

conducting the huge forces required for the first performance of the Eighth Symphony. A

full schedule for a man who has so often been described as close to death! Although his

relationship with Alma took on an obsessive, pathological intensity, he was very soon just as

active professionally as before.

During the same summer of 1910, Mahler found out that the Philharmonic's new

manager, Loudon Charlton, had persuaded the Committee to increase the number of

concerts even further, from 45 to 6 5 . He was understandably angry not to have been

consulted or informed, and asked for an increased salary of $25 ,000 instead of the $20 ,000

earlier planned. After six months' negotiations, the Guarantors eventually granted him an

increase of only $3 ,000 . T h e prolonged negotiations certainly did nothing to improve the

Committee's relations with Mahler. Another source of tension developed at the end of the

year, when Mahler befriended a second violinist by the name of Th . E. Johner. One of

Mahler's true weaknesses was—and had always been—to believe all too easily that people

disliked him. In Vienna, his brother-in-law, Arnold Rosé, had often briefed him about the

intrigues devised by hostile members of the Philharmonic. Johner was soon suspected of

being Mahler's spy and was nicknamed by his colleagues "Judas of the Orchestra." In the

1950s, Hermann Reinshagen, a double-bass player under Mahler, informed me of the

official reason for his eviction: Johner had pleaded illness and had been allowed to stay home

while the rest of the orchestra went on tour to Pittsburgh, Buffalo, etc. When the manager

heard that he had nevertheless participated in a concert in New York, he immediately

dismissed him. One task which Mahler had perhaps assigned to him could well have been

that of identifying the player or players who took care to inform Krehbiel before each

concert of every alteration he introduced in classical scores.

Alma Mahler states that "Mahler had become rude with the Orchestra, irritable and

intolerant. He believed Jonas [Johner] to be his only true friend, and was sure that all the

rest of the Orchestra hated him." However, Alma seldom attended rehearsals, and there are

serious reasons to doubt her statement. In the 1960s, William Malloch interviewed the

surviving members of Mahler's Philharmonic, and none of these invaluable first-hand

interviews substantiates her claims.

At the beginning of Mahler's second Philharmonic season, a serious effort was made to

appeal to a new and larger public. The price of seats and especially that of subscriptions was

lowered, the number of out-of-town concerts increased, and a new attempt made to render

the programs more appealing. Thus , the number of works by Tchaikovsky, New York's most

popular composer, was more than doubled. Mahler's first performances of the "Pathétique"

had been poorly reviewed. T h e next ones, however, proved that he had done his best to

identify with New York's most popular modern symphony as he had before with the same

composer's operas. Although the program of the first concert, Mahler's arrangement from

Bach Suites, Schubert's C major Symphony and Strauss's Zarathustra, was anything but

popular, it was loudly applauded by a full house, and well reviewed by a large majority of

critics (except of course Krehbiel).

In January 1911, Mahler had not quite made up his mind to return to New York for

another Philharmonic season. The salary he demanded ($30,000) had been found too high

by the Guarantors, who were negotiating with other conductors. Shortly after the

Orchestra's big tour, a genuine dispute developed concerning Mahler's programs. It seems

that he had once let himself be persuaded—imprudently no doubt—to relinquish part of

the responsibility for program making and to declare himself willing to conduct any works 4o 41

the Guarantors found necessary to attract the public. T h e press even claimed that his

programs had already been altered more than once by the Committee. His readiness to make

concessions was proved at the end of the year, when he conducted twice in New York and

once in Brooklyn an all-Tchaikovsky program made up of unfamiliar works (including

Symphony N o . 2 and Suite N o . 1). But further concessions were no doubt being required

from him.

At the end of January, measures were taken by the Guarantors to reduce Mahler's powers,

and two sub-committees were formed, one in charge of finance, another of programs. The

unpleasant scene described by Alma, when a lawyer who had been taking notes of what

Mahler said appeared from behind a curtain, surely occurred at a session of the program

committee and in the absence of Mrs. Untermyer, who had from the start been Mahler's

friend and loyal supporter among the Guarantors. Although he must have been exasperated

and hurt by this painful scene, Mahler was certainly aware that his power in New York was

still considerable. The fact that he was already doing the job, his international reputation,

his past accomplishments, and the progress achieved with the orchestra were all strong

arguments in his favor. Furthermore, no first-rate conductor was apparently willing or able

at this time to replace him. In the first dissertation about "Mahler in New York," written in

1973, Marvin von Deck pertinently remarks that the meeting in Mrs. Sheldon's house

suffices to prove that the Guarantors' Commit tee had decided to re-engage him as music

A cartoon that ran in the New York American on January 31, 1910, about the

eccentric pianist Joseph Weiss, who attacked Mahler with a score of Schumann's

Piano Concerto during a rehearsal. 43

director; otherwise they would only have needed not to renew his contract. Unfortunately,

we have no evidence from a key witness of Mahler's dealings with the Guarantors'

Committee, Mrs. Sheldon herself. Since my mother in her youth had known both Mrs.

Sheldon and her daughters, I made several attempts during the 1950s to find out whether

she had left any papers or statements, but none of my efforts ever bore fruit.

The letters Mahler wrote to Europe at the end of January prove that he had practically

made up his mind to return to New York for at least another year: "As the dice here seem to

have fallen," he writes to the young Swiss writer William Ritter, "I may well become my own

successor next season. With their love and willingness, the people here are making it virtually

impossible for me to leave them in the lurch. And thus I am half decided to return here next

winter. To the Munch impresario Emil Gutmann, who had recently organized the premiere of

the Eighth Symphony and had further proposals to make, his answer was: "As concerns next

year, it is, as I had foreseen, difficult to leave here. The people are making every effort, and will

probably capture me again. I think that eventually i shall have to abscond in secret, otherwise

I shall never get away from here." One of Mahler's close friends, Maurice Baumfeld, the critic

of New York's main German newspaper, the Staatszeitung, recalled that "when he began to feel

that the public was starting to warm up to his truly sacred seriousness, he had decided to come

back and complete his task here." In fact, Baumfeld adds, he was starting to feel at home in

New York. He sometimes sat for hours at the window of his apartment watching the busy to-

and-fro of the city. He "had a real passion" for its sunny climate and often said, "Wherever I

am, I feel homesick for this blue sky, for this sun and this throbbing activity."

The New Year had begun at the Philharmonic with two all-Wagner programs, one of

which was also given in Brooklyn, Philadelphia, and Washington. In the Evening Sun, Henry

T. Finck describes how "Mahler was recalled again and again with the same expressions of

frenzied enthusiasm." In the Evening World, Sylvester Rawling called the first of these

evenings "the most inspired and inspiring concert of the season." Shortly thereafter, Mahler

included his own Fourth Symphony in a program, and it was misunderstood in New York

just as it had been in Germany and Austria. Once again, according to Reginald de Koven,

Mahler had shown "his predilection for folksongs and somewhat archaic formulas." Then,

"he suddenly seems to say to himself: 'Ha! I have forgot, I must be modern, ' and proceeds

forthwith to shake out the whole bag of tricks of the modern musical juggler." Unbeknown

to them, the New York critics were only repeating the tired old cliches of their German

counterparts. How surprised they would have been if told that, 50 years later, New York

would be ahead of the rest of the world in the rediscovery of Mahler's symphonies!

Despite the failure of the Fourth Symphony, a comprehensive examination of the

season's reviews reveals that they were much more favorable than those of the preceding

season. Even critics such as William Henderson (Sun) and Arthur Farwell (Musical America),

whose previous articles had been mostly negative, now acknowledged the progress

accomplished by the Orchestra and the general high level of the performances. Looking back

on the whole season, Henderson found that more than three-quarters of his own reviews had

been favorable. Needless to say, the critics who had been well disposed towards Mahler from

the start, for instance Richard Aldrich (Times), Henry T. Finck (Evening Post), and Max

Smith (Press), maintained their support. Needless to say also, Krehbiel's hostility reached

new heights. He did not miss a single occasion to disparage Mahler, whether or not he was

specifically writing about the Philharmonic. By 21 February, Mahler had conducted 46

concerts, nearly three-quarters of those scheduled (63). 44 45

On 4 February, after rumors had leaked out in the press of tensions between Mahler and

the Guarantors, Mrs. Sheldon was interviewed by Musical America:

Personally 1 feel that Mr. Mahler is the greatest conductor today, either in Europe or in

America, and I feel further that we have been most fortunate in keeping him as long as

we have. While it is not settled absolutely, I believe that he will remain with us at least

another year. Of course, we have not been entirely fortunate in the attitude of the critics

towards the orchestra. Certain of the critics are entirely free, that is they have no other

interests which prevent them from writing what they think and can criticize a program

favorably, or adversely, merely upon the music's merit. On the other hand, there are critics in

this city whose interests in other institutions and organizations are so great that they

cannot afford to write as they must feel concerning the magnificent work of the orchestra.

Everyone must have known whom she was referring to, for it was public knowledge that both Krehbiel and

Henderson held teaching posts in the Institute of Musical Art, the school founded and directed by the Damrosch

brothers.

Shortly after the onset of Mahler's illness, his re-engagement was officially announced by

several newspapers. As we shall see, this announcement was premature, for no decision had as

yet been reached. When it appeared, Mahler had already taken to his bed. Coming so

47 Walter Damrosch, who conducted the Symphony Society from 1885 to 1928, the year it

merged with the New York Philharmonic.

soon after the rumors of his dispute with the Guarantors' Committee, his illness was

inevitably interpreted as feigned or "diplomatic." He was reported to be "sulking against the

powers of the Philharmonic," while in fact, on 8 March, in an official letter addressed to the

Guarantors' Committee, he again, but this time in writing, declared himself willing to

conduct 90 to 100 concerts during the following season for a salary of $30 ,000 . Once more,

the Executive Committee found his demands excessive and decided to sign him up only if

Felix Weingartner were not available. Had Mahler recovered, the outcome of this

negotiation could easily be predicted. Since Weingartner was either unable or unwilling to

leave Germany, Mahler would have remained the obvious and necessary choice and would

no doubt have accepted a small reduction of his salary. That he did not plan to leave New

York is clear from the fact that twice, during his last illness, when his condition briefly

improved, he immediately arranged to hold an orchestra rehearsal the next day and start

discussing the program with which he would take leave of New York for the season.

In early May, while Mahler was being treated for endocarditis in a French sanatorium

near Paris, Alma granted to Charles Henry Meltzer, of the New York American, an interview

which was immediately reproduced in many German and American newspapers and

magazines, and which has often been quoted since then:

You cannot imagine what Mr. Mahler has suffered. In Vienna my husband was

all powerful. Even the Emperor did not dictate to him, but in New York, to his

amazement, he had 10 ladies ordering him about like a puppet. He hoped,

however, by hard work and success to rid himself of his tormentors. . . .

This sounds dramatic enough and casts the ladies of the Guarantors' Commit tee as

villains in the eyes of posterity. Yet it must be remembered that, as her memoirs were later

to prove, Alma always spoke of Mahler as a sickly man, whose constant overwork never

ceased to undermine an already weak physical constitution. Furthermore, at this time, she

had every reason to feel secretly guilty after the cruel blows she had inflicted upon him

(during the preceding summer. T h e letters first published in Reginald Isaacs' Gropius

biography of 1983 also revealed new and painful truths about her affair with Gropius, the

first one being that she had no intention of giving him up. Mahler must have had strong

suspicions, to say the least, and some kind of modus vivendi must have been reached whereby

she would keep Gropius but would remain his wife and the mother of his children. Be that

as it may, Alma's interview with Meltzer contributed a great deal to the legend. It was

generally assumed from then on that Mahler's illness was the result of overwork and nervous

stress caused by his conflict with the Guarantors' Committee. Yet, a few days before Alma

made these dramatic and much publicized statements to Meltzer, Mahler, in what was

probably his last interview, had spoken to a Viennese journalist and said:

I have worked really hard for decades and have borne the exertion wonderfully

well. I have never worked as little as I did in America. I was not subjected to an

excess of either physical or intellectual work there.

It has been hinted that the course of a fatal illness, even when it is caused by an infection,

can be hastened by psychological factors. Such an assertion is of course hard to prove

scientifically, but if any psychological factor can be claimed to have lowered Mahler's

resistance to disease, it is mote likely to have been Alma's infidelity, the thought of having 48 49

henceforth, so to speak, to share her with her lover, and the idea that only his own death

would set her free to marry him. However that may be, all medical experts today agree that,

30 years before the miracle drug—penicillin—was discovered, Mahler's illness (Osler's

disease) was invariably fatal.

Thus Mahler was killed, not by the hectic pace of American life, nor by overwork at the

Philharmonic, nor by sadistic New York committee women, but by slow endocarditis, which

is not a heart disease in the usual sense of the word, but a serious infection—incurable at

that t ime—whose seat is in the heart. H a d he lived, he would certainly have acknowledged

the deep feeling of happiness and fulfillment which the Philharmonic post had brought to

him. To a Viennese journalist who came to interview him just before he left America, he

spoke of the Johner affair as "insignificant in itself" but admitted having hesitated before

signing his new contract because of it. Most likely, he would have settled his dispute

concerning programs as he had many others in his life before. Deadly enemies such as Walter

Damrosch, hostile critics such as Henry Krehbiel, were nothing new in his life. He would

have gone on ignoring them, and his only reaction would have been, as before, to work hard

and to strive for the steady improvement in his orchestra and in the high quality of its

performances. Ten years earlier he had written to his bride-to-be: "The important thing is

never to let oneself be guided by the opinion of one's contemporaries and, in both one's life

and one's work, to continue steadfastly on one's way without letting oneself be either

defeated by failure or diverted by applause." In all likelihood, Mahler would have gone on

to conduct one or more further seasons in New York. And his influence on the musical life

Front page of an announcement for Mahler's first season of concerts in Brooklyn. 51

of the city would certainly have been deeper and more lasting, now that the first two

pioneering years were behind him.

The legend of Mahler's "failure" spread abroad, and was even amplified over the years.

Krehbiel had written, in his notorious obituary:

He was looked upon as a great artist, and possibly he was one, but he failed to

convince the people of New York of the fact, and therefore his American career was

not a success. His influence was not helpful, but prejudicial to good taste. . . . It

was not long before the local musical authorities, those of the operatic and concert

field, found that Mr. Mahler was an expensive and unprofitable proposition. . . .

In another article published a week later, the same Krehbiel added: "The artistic failure

of the Philharmonic scheme was so complete as its disappointment from a popular point of

view. Thousands of dollars were lost to show how little demand for the enterprise of the

Society existed in this city. . . ."

The friend of the Damrosches and the faithful supporter of the New York Symphony is of

course speaking. Yet the Philharmonic not only endured, it flourished and proved without a

shadow of a doubt that a strong demand for such an enterprise indeed existed in New York.

In the autumn following Mahler's death, the society was to receive half a million dollars' legacy

from Joseph Pulitzer. Far from being defeated by the Symphony, as Krehbiel hints, it was the

Philharmonic which later absorbed the rival Society and became New York's leading orchestra.

In his obituary, Krehbiel made the following remarks about the retouches Mahler

introduced in classical scores: "He never knew, or if he knew he was never willing to

acknowledge, that the Philharmonic audience would be as quick to resent an outrage on the

musical classics as a corruption of the Bible or Shakespeare. He did not know that he was

doing it, or if he did he was willing wantonly to insult their intelligence and taste. . . ." Only

Krehbiel, in fact, had considered Mahler's alterations in repertory scores an "outrage." Most

of the other critics had hardly mentioned them.

Such were the tone and contents of Krehbiel's obituary that a large number of

professionals and music-lovers were deeply shocked. In the New York Press, Max Smith wrote:

Gustav Mahler is dead; but even death has not silenced the tongue of one of his

most relentless persecutors in New York. We have been informed that the

objectionable comments, which have been characterized as one of the most "savage

attacks on a dead man's memory" ever printed in this city, and have outraged the

feelings of every reader possessed of a grain of common decency, were inspired by "a

sense of duty," by an irresistible desire to tell the "truth." Coming from a man,

however, most of whose utterances concerning Mahler from the day that [this]

conductor was engaged by the Philharmonic Society, breathed the venom of

animosity, the explanation is far from convincing. No explanation, in fact no

manner of reasoning will serve as an excuse in the minds of Americans for so

unwarranted an assault, immediately after his death, on the memory of a

musician who, whatever his faults as an artist, was a master of his craft; whatever

his sins as a man, he suffered cruelly and died in agony.

Yet for many years to come, Krehbiel's resentful remarks, as well as Alma's dramatic 53 52

statements, were still coloring all the descriptions of Mahler's last two years in America.

If Mahler had survived, I have no doubt that he would have brought further changes to

the musical life in New York, if only by improving the general level of orchestral playing, and

that of the Philharmonic in particular. That level deteriorated quickly after his death, when

the conscientious but uninspiring Josef Stransky was chosen to replace him. Stransky has

been called a "society conductor," for he was better able to please the ladies of the Committee

and knew how to cater to the tastes of the public. Like all reformers, Mahler, it is true, had

sometimes been too demanding and too loath to compromise, but this had surely been his

main asset as renovator of the Philharmonic. Yet fate, not he himself, nor the critics, nor the

Philharmonic's Guarantors, was responsible for the sudden interruption of his activity as

musical director. His real mistake was to die too soon. •

© 1994 Henry-Louis de La Grange

An English translation of Henry-Louis de La Grange's monumental biography of Gustav Mahler

is being issued in four volumes by Oxford University Press. The above essay is an abbreviated

version of "Mahler and the New York Philharmonic: The Truth Behind the Legend," first

published (with full bibliographical citations) in On Mahler and Britten: Essays in Honour

of Donald Mitchell on His 70th Birthday, edited by Philip Reed (The Boydell Press and The

Britten-Pears Library, 1995).

A caricature of Josef Stransky, who succeeded Mahler as Conductor of the Philharmonic

from 1 9 1 1 to 1923 . 54

New York's Musical Culture:

The Transformation of an Orchestra

by HOWARD SHANET

The following excerpts, from Howard Shanet's Philharmonic: A History of New

York's Orchestra (a revised version of which is to be issued by Yale University

Press), describe the lively and competitive classical-music environment in New

York City during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They outline the rapid

evolution of the Orchestra—after the sudden death of the charismatic Anton

Seidl in 1898—from a musicians' cooperative to a modern corporate institution

that employed Gustav Mahler as its Music Director.

56

Anton Seidl (1850-1898) , formerly Richard Wagner's assistant, was Conductor of the New

York Philharmonic from 1891 until his death.

Anton Seidl, in background and personality, had the makings of a glamorous

interpreter-conductor. Hungarian by birth—in itself an exotic passport to the

American artistic wor ld—he was even rumored to be the illegitimate son of

Franz Liszt. After leaving the Leipzig Conservatory in 1872, Seidl had actual-

ly lived in the household of Richard Wagner for a number of years as one of the young

musicians who helped to prepare the score and parts of The Ring of the Nibelung. It was

Wagner himself who had recommended him, after that, as conductor for Angelo

Neumann's Wagner Theater. Seidl came to N e w York in 1885 as conductor for the new

German Opera, which had been "orphaned" by the death of Leopold Damrosch, but he

also began to give concert programs almost from the start with sufficient success to arouse

the jealousy of Theodore T h o m a s . By the time Seidl replaced T h o m a s as Philharmonic con-

ductor in 1 8 9 1 , he had won an enthusiastic following in the concert hall as well as the opera

house. Seidl, the disciple of Wagner, was one of the new race of conductors who played on

the orchestra as a virtuoso pianist played on his instrument. Carl Bergmann and Thomas

had come up through the ranks of the orchestra as cellist and violinist, but Seidl, a pianist

like many of the new conductors, came to the Philharmonic from outside, with none of the

inhibitions of an orchestra man's tradition with respect to the standard repertory. Indeed, it

was said that he was conducting certain classic compositions for the first time in his life

when he did them with the N e w York Philharmonic.

O n e can guess that, with this background and temperament, Seidl performed a great

deal of the new music of his day; but the total amount, interestingly enough, was rather

less than is generally believed. By actual count, his repertory even represents a slight

falling-off in the performance of living composers, as compared with the repertory of

Theodore T h o m a s . Although Seidl was the champion of the "new" music of Wagner and

Liszt, it should be observed that both of them had been dead for several years by the time

Seidl came to the Philharmonic in 1 8 9 1 . They were, in fact, on the way to becoming an

established part of the modern sector of the orchestral repertory, and that repertory in

general was tending to assume more and more the aspect of an accepted body of past

music with only s o m e leavening from the new. Seidl's orchestra library shows him to have

had a balanced collection of great breadth, covering the principal orchestral works from

the time of Haydn to his own day. At the end of Seidl's first year, in 1892, the

Philharmonic's official historian could safely affirm the view of the Society with regard

to repertory: "I should say that it has conceived its duty primarily to be the conservation

of musical composi t ions which the judgment and taste of the cultured would have admit-

ted to the first rank. Only secondarily has it made propaganda for new and progressive

composers who have widened the boundaries of the art." A special case a m o n g composers

then living was that of Dvořák, who was resident in N e w York at the time; the excite-

ment of his presence, added to his evident genius, made for a very high number of

performances of his composi t ions by the Philharmonic, of which he was named an

Honorary Member in 1894.

Already under T h o m a s the Philharmonic had begun to adopt the methods and man-

ners of a modern orchestra "of the highest class," and now the process accelerated.

Internationally famous soloists came to be expected regularly for every season, and big

fees were paid to get them. Regular program notes, or "descriptive programmes," as they

were called, were now commiss ioned by the Society; A. Mees wrote them from 1887

through 1896 at $ 1 5 a concert, after which the distinguished critic Henry Edward 58 59

Krehbiel took on the job at a fee more in keeping with his position in the musical com-

mun i ty—$25 a concert.

Although the Philharmonic during Seidl's tenure still did not own a permanent home

of its own, it rented the finest concert hall in the city for its performances—the new Music

Hall, at Seventh Avenue and 57th Street, built by Andrew Carnegie in 1891 and later

known by his name. T h e Metropolitan Opera House , where the Philharmonic had played

since 1886, had questionable acoustics for orchestral music, but it had been the most fash-

ionable hall in town, and it had offered the practical advantages of a very large seating

capacity and of storage space for the Orchestra's library and equipment. That was why

Theodore Thomas had put up with it, though he considered the hall and its stage too large

for the best artistic results. The Metropolitan's attractions, social and practical, were strong

enough so that the Philharmonic had stayed on there even after Carnegie's Music Hall, with

its superior acoustics and seating arrangements, had opened.

On March 28, 1898, at the height of this period of the Philharmonic's social, financial,

and artistic success, New Yorkers were horrified to learn that Anton Seidl had suddenly died

at the age of 4 7 . Seidl's funeral, one of the most remarkable that the city has ever known,

tells much about the place that he had made for himself in the life of New York. T h e obse-

quies were held in the Metropolitan Opera House. T h e orchestra pit was floored over, and

the coffin placed upon it. Tickets were prepared for the occasion, and nearly 12,000 per

sons applied for them, although only 4 ,000 could be squeezed into the theatet.

With the death of Seidl it became painfully clear how much the Philharmonic had been

Seidl studies a score in his New York brownstone on East 62nd Street. 60

dependent for its success on its glamorous interpreter-conductor. It was almost impossible

for any other conductor to fill the place of the idolized leader. After an unsuccessful attempt

to engage the Belgian violin virtuoso and conductor Eugène Ysaÿe, the Philharmonic took

Emil Paur, who had been conducting the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Paur was a more

than competent conductor, but he could not arouse and inflame the public as his prede-

cessor had done. Under Seidl the ticket receipts had climbed to unprecedented heights in

the midst of a severe financial depression; under Paur, in comparatively good times, they

began to fall again. Meanwhile, in Paur's fourth and last year, E. Francis Hyde had found it

necessary to resign as President of the Philharmonic Society, but had paved the way for

Andrew Carnegie to succeed him.

Carnegie was a man who made his influence felt beyond the exact measure of his finan-

cial contribution. He was fond of Walter Damrosch, son of Leopold Damrosch, and the

knowledge among the Philharmonic members of Walter's good relations with Carnegie

contributed to his election as conductor of the Philharmonic for 1902-3.

Financially, Walter's season was almost as bad as his father's had been in 1876-77. He

seemed unable to attract the public. Subscriptions zoomed downward even further than

they had under Paur, and the single-ticket sales went with them. From this low point the

Philharmonic made one of the most remarkable recoveries in its history. And Walter

Damrosch, strange as it may seem, was directly responsible for that recovery, although the

path that it eventually took was quite the opposite of the one that he had planned for it.

Damrosch may not have had the power to excite the audience, but he was imaginative and

resourceful. He approached the President, Andrew Carnegie, and achieved the following,

result (I quote from the Minutes of the meeting): "Mr. Carnegie expressed his willingness 62 63

to head a fund with five thousand dollars, this fund to be subscribed to by others to raise

it to ten thousand dollars or more and this fund to be renewed each year for the coming

four years. T h e Fund to be called T h e New York Philharmonic Society Orchestra Fund,

and this Fund to be used for the artistic and material improvement of the Society."

Carnegie imposed the condition that the Philharmonic members pledge themselves to con­

tribute to the Fund five percent of the dividends that they derived from their regular series

of eight public rehearsals and concerts.

Less than three weeks later, on January 5, 1903, Damrosch had a meeting with "sever­

al of [his] friends and some old subscribers and friends of the Philharmonic," a meeting at

which a father different plan was outlined. A much larger fund—the sum mentioned by

Damrosch in My Musical Life is $50 ,000 a year for the four years—was proposed as the

beginning of an endowment for a "permanent orchestra" of which the Philharmonic

Society was to be only the nucleus. This Permanent Orchestra Fund was to be administered

by a board that would adequately represent the financial backers and would not be under

the control of the Philharmonic Society.

The Society voted unanimously to send a letter to Mr. Harry Harkness Flagler, who was

now serving as representative of the Sub-Commit tee of the Permanent Orchestra Fund, in

the form of the following resolution:

The Philharmonic Society of New York . . . is constrained not to concur in the

Amendments to its Constitution proposed by the Committee, on the general

grounds that these Amendments so change the nature of the Society as to serious­

ly interfere with the control of its affairs by its members which has always been

its vital principle, and that the future prosperity of the Society would be thereby

imperiled.

As Richard Arnold, concertmaster and Vice President of the Philharmonic, analyzed the

situation, in order to "compete with rival organizations, and to overcome the growing op­

position of a portion of the Press, the Philharmonic Society [needed] a European celebrity

for a conductor and one of the first rank at that." This meant that they needed funds and

friends. They found both through their beloved ex-President and Honorary Associate

Member, E. Francis Hyde. With his aid, working swiftly and quietly, they put together a

Conductor 's Fund, subscribed by Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller, James Loeb,

Elkan Naumburg , Grant Schley, Hyde, and his brother, Clarence M. Hyde.

Then in a sensational move they engaged not one but seven celebrated conductors from

as many different parts of the world—Edouard Colonne of Paris, Gustav Kogel of

Frankfurt, Henry Wood of London, Victor Herbert of Pittsburgh, Felix Weingartner of

Munich, Vassily Safonoff of Moscow, and Dr. Richard Strauss of Berlin. Exploiting the

presence of Weingartner in New York, they gave an extra concert under his direction in the

middle of the season. The whole plan worked so well that it was repeated with slight vari­

ations in the next two seasons. In 1905-6, Safonoff and Victor Herbert were back again,

and to them were added Willem Mengelberg of Amsterdam, Max Fiedler of Hamburg,

Announcement for the second concert of the Philharmonic's 1903-4 season, which featured

an international roster of conductors: Henry Wood, Victor Herbert, Felix Weingartner,

64 Wassily Safonoff, and Richard Strauss .

Ernst Kunwald of Frankfurt, and Fritz Steinbach of Cologne. By now the Philharmonic's

system of guest conductors was doing nicely, and Safonoff in particular had become such

a favorite that he was asked to conduct two extra performances beyond the regular series of

eight evening concerts and eight afternoon concerts (called that now, instead of public

rehearsals). T h e ticket sales rose gratifyingly to almost $39 ,000 in 1903-4, and then to

approximately $50 ,000 in each of the next two seasons, finally matching the record that

had been set in Seidl's last year.

T h e guest-conductors coup had captured the public's interest and had put the

Philharmonic back on its feet again. N o w it seemed that the podium could once more be

entrusted to a single conductor for an entire season, and for 1906-7 it was turned over to

the guest conductor who had enjoyed the most brilliant success, Safonoff. Vassily Ilyich

Safonoff had a many-sided talent. Director of the Moscow Conservatory and conductor

of the Symphony Concerts of the Imperial Russian Music Society, he was also a fine

pianist. In Safonoff's first year the dollars rolled into the Philharmonic box office. But in

the third year the receipts were under $ 4 0 , 0 0 0 and nervousness began to set in. T h e glam­

our and the excitement of the intetpreter-conductors—from Seidl, through the years of

guest conductors, to Safonoff—had temporarily outweighed and concealed certain inher-

ent weaknesses of the Philharmonic's structure. A decade after Seidl's death it became

apparent that serious problems that had been facing the Philharmonic even in his time

had not yet been solved.

T h e Philharmonic's most conspicuous problem in its effort to "go big-t ime" was the

mount ing competi t ion from others with the same goal in m i n d — a competi t ion whose

66 roots went back at least to the days of the T h o m a s Orchestra. When Theodore T h o m a s

was persuaded to become conductor of the Philharmonic in 1877 , it was imagined that

the problem would be solved, for it was the T h o m a s Orchestra that had been the

Society's most dangerous rival. But they both reckoned without Leopold Damrosch .

After his one disastrous season with the Philharmonic in 1876 -77 , when it was clear

that T h o m a s had won that field from him, Damrosch energetically put together an ad

hoc orchestra of his own with which he gave several series of afternoon and evening con-

certs in 1877 -78—even managing to steal the first American performance of Brahms's

First Symphony from the Philharmonic by performing it a week before T h o m a s had

scheduled it.

By 1883-84 the Symphony Society had become so ambitious an enterprise that it was

considering the idea of building its own Hall of Music for its concerts. In 1885 Leopold

Damrosch died and his son Walter, only 23 years old, took over the direction of the

Symphony Society and the Oratorio Society. Walter's social gifts were even greater than

his father's when it came to enlisting the aid of the wealthy and the socially prominent for

artistic ventures.

In 1902-3, like his father, he had had a one-year chance with the Philharmonic, which

had turned into the second Damrosch debacle. Then, once again in his father's pattern,

when it was clear that the Philharmonic could not be his, he built his own orchestral forces.

With the aid of Harry Harkness Flagler and other moneyed friends, he reorganized the

Symphony Society of New York in 1903. In building up his orchestra, Damrosch fre­

quently imported gifted musicians from Europe. In this he had an advantage over the

Philharmonic, which, as a cooperative society of local orchestra musicians, was naturally

reluctant to bring in its own competition from abroad. 67

Damrosch's musical performances were severely criticized in many circles and were sel­

dom considered superior to the Philharmonic's, but his program-making was often more

adventurous. It was the Symphony Society, not the Philharmonic, that brought

Tchaikovsky to New York in 1891 for the opening season at Carnegie's Music Hall. It was

the Symphony Society, not the Philharmonic, that cultivated the music of Debussy in the

first few years of the 20th century as a refreshing change from the omnipresent German

repertory. It was the Symphony Society, after Gustav Mahler had come to New York to

conduct at the Metropolitan Opera, that presented him as concert conductor in the 1908-09

season, before the Philharmonic could do so. Under both Damrosches, father and son, the

Symphony Society was a continuing challenge to the Philharmonic.

T h e Symphony Society was not the only force that the Philharmonic had to contend

with. T h e Philharmonic conductors and players were always competing with themselves,

even more than they had done in the 1860s. Since they could not make a living from their

six or eight pairs of annual concerts, they had always to be on the lookout for other engage­

ments—indeed, had to create other engagements, which inevitably distracted attention

from the work of the Philharmonic itself.

T h e corroding problem of the Philharmonic was that, even while it was attracting such

sensational conductors, such eminent soloists, such wealthy patrons, and such substantial

audiences, it was disintegrating internally. In the comparatively healthy years from 1867 to

1870, so many of New York's professional musicians wanted to be members of the

Wassily Safonoff, the dazzling Russian piano virtuoso who served as Conductor of the New

68 York Philharmonic between 1906 and 1909, was Mahler's immediate predecessor.

Philharmonic that it could always find the 100 players that its largest concerts required in

its pool of Actual Members. As the competition of the Thomas Orchestra and other con­

certs began to be felt in the 1870s, both the number of Actual Members enrolled and the

number that performed in the concerts went down slightly, and of course the amount spent

to hire outsiders as substitutes had to go up somewhat, but the differential was not yet

alarmingly large. From 1883 to 1909, however, the amount spent for substitutes rose from

the neighborhood of $2 ,000 to more than $8 ,000 per season. T h e number of registered

Actual Members fell from 92 to 57, and the number performing in the Orchestra to 37.

Only 37 real Philharmonic members playing in an orchestra of 100 men! They hardly had

the right to be called an orchestra any more; one could say that they functioned more as a

cooperative concert management of 37 men who hired the performers necessary to put on

a series of concerts.

Ultimately the Philharmonic's problems of cruel competit ion and internal deteriora­

tion had to be reflected in financial troubles. Trying to support a glamorous outside with

a crumbling inside, the Orchestra was balancing its budget only on paper. It was becom­

ing more and more difficult for the Philharmonic members to make ends meet. Trying

to lift themselves up by their own bootstraps, they made desperate efforts to expand their

seasons with additional concerts. There were perennial hopes for a series at the Brooklyn

Academy of Music and talks with the concert manager Loudon Charl ton about traveling

engagements, but both these projects fell through. Safonoff was offered a contract for 25

to 30 concerts in a season—on paper—bur when it came to concrete arrangements, only

the usual eight pairs materialized. An orchestra in which only 37 players out of a 100 are

70 regular members cannot have a very high morale. It is touching to see these once proud

musicians being treated almost like chanty cases. Even the extra concerts that were

arranged by one means or another in these years, gala as some of them seemed to the

public eye, had a "make-work" quality about them for the men in the Orchestra; they

seldom meant more to the Society than an extra night's pay for the players, and many of

those were outside men, picked up for the occasion. For the extra concert at the home

of William K. Vanderbilt at 6 6 0 Fifth Avenue in 1908, the stipulated orchestra of 60

Philharmonic members could not be assembled and 22 outsiders had to be hired to make

up the number. A mention of "drummers ' traps," moreover, in the Philharmonic's

records of the Vanderbilt engagement suggests that some of the members may have

stooped to providing dance music after the concert that evening. For "high-class" musi-

cians, at that time, this had demeaning professional and social connotations. "My men

are all ruined," Theodore T h o m a s had complained when he was forced to disband his

private orchestra in 1888, "by constant playing at balls and dances, for a living. A nice

state of affairs, truly, that after a lifetime of hard work the members of my orchestra must

play for dancing in order to live." Two decades later, the state of affairs seemed to have

grown even worse.

Richard Arnold and his colleagues had waged a stirring but futile campaign to save their

beloved cooperative society. They had tried everything that experience and ingenuity sug-

gested —they had raised extra funds, they had imported some of the world's greatest soloists

and conductors, they had tried to lengthen their seasons, they had modernized their adver­

tising, their press relations, and their office management, but as long as their affairs were

managed collectively by a membership that drifted in and out of their handful of concerts

each year, while they earned their livings elsewhere, they could not compete with the big- 71

business methods of the great subsidized orchestras that were being built by the wealthy of

America. When two extra concerts were announced for the end of the season of 1908-9, it

was not the Philharmonic's regular conductor Vassily Safonoff who led them, but Gustav

Mahler. The music world learned then that Safonoff was on his way out and Mahler on his

way in. But this was not merely the replacement of one man by another. It was the end of

one way of musical life and the beginning of a new one. After 67 years, the cooperative soci­

ety of professional musicians, democratically deciding who their conductor would be, what

music they would play, where they would play it, and how much they would charge for the

privilege of attendance at their performances, was to be converted into an orchestra hired

and administered by a little group of wealthy citizens that undertook to support it as a pub­

lic service.

Carnegie Hall, at the corner of 57th Street and 7th Avenue in Manhattan, first opened its

doors to the public on May 5,1891, with a concert conducted by

Walter Damrosch and Tchaikovsky. 72

"Like many another private enterprise," comments J. H. Mueller on the reorganization

of the Philharmonic in 1909, "it was taken over by society as soon as it was affected with

the public interest."

The Philharmonic in 1909, however, was taken over not by "society," but by "high soci-

ety." In the season of 1908-9, while Safonoff was still the conductor, Mrs. George R.

Sheldon, wife of a prominent banker, and a number of other public-spirited citizens began

to organize a group of so-called Guarantors of the Fund for the Permanent Orchestra of the

Philharmonic Society of New York. Their object was to raise enough money to rebuild the

Philharmonic into an orchestra of the first rank, paying sufficient salaries to the players and

to the conductor to enable them to give their full time to the Orchestra during the concert

season. By the early part of 1909 large sums were being pledged by some of the old and a

great many new supporters of the Philharmonic. They were promises of as much as

$10 ,000 , $15 ,000 , and in a couple of cases even $30 ,000 each, and they came from a long

list of people whose names meant wealth or position in New York's social and business cir­

c les—J. P. Morgan, Thomas Fortune Ryan, Joseph Pulitzer, John D. Rockefeller, E. J. de

Coppet , Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney, Miss Dororhy Whitney, Alex Smith Cochran, Mrs.

Samuel Untermyer, Arthur Curtiss James, and many others.

By the end of the month a Guarantors ' Commit tee , with Mrs. Sheldon as Chairman,

was meeting regularly, and the wheels of the Philharmonic's new machinery were beginning

to turn. From the beginning of 1909 the Guarantors' Commit tee took over the practical

administration of the Philharmonic's business affairs. Mrs. Sheldon and her group of

Guarantors—especially the ladies, who had the time and the interest to attend meetings

regularly and pursue the business that grew out of them—threw themselves into the work

with enthusiasm. Fortunately they also had energy and ability. T h e records of their formal

meetings show that they knew how to make the committee system work. For the season of

1909-10, they supervised the organization and contracting of a full symphony orchestra,

engaged one of the world's most distinguished musicians, Gustav Mahler, as conductor,

increased the number of concerts from the 18 of the preceding season to 46 , arranged the

Orchestra's first tour outside the city, and raised more than $118 ,000 to cover the deficit

that these activities incurred.

74 Mahler began to stir things up immediately. He brought in a new concertmaster, the

American violinist Theodore Spiering. He changed most of the important players in the

woodwind and brass sections, favoring in the woodwinds the highly regarded French

school. He adjusted the string section to his taste, cutting down the number of basses from

14 to 8 and engaging some fine new cellists from other orchestras. When the reformed

Philharmonic gave its first concert, on November 4, 1909, the new order was received with

cautious optimism, but by the second and third concerts even Mahler's enemies 'had to

agree that he was welding his forces into "a joyfully responsive and flexible instrument,"

capable of expressing every nuance of his highly personal style.

Most Americans assume that Mahler's expansion of the New York Philharmonic's activ-

ities represented a transplantation of his Vienna practice to a sparsely cultivated New York.

But in Vienna, where Mahler had conducted the Philharmonic Concerts from 1898 to

1900 he had never had the number and the variety of concerts that he now dared to pre-

sent in New York. As a matter of fact, the Vienna Philharmonic in the 1970s did not offer

as many performances as Mahler did in New York in 1909. Then as now, European cities,

with a few exceptions, had long opera seasons, but short symphony seasons; their sympho­

ny concerts—notwithstanding Mahler's characterization of the symphony as "the basis on

which the musical education of a people must stand"—have always been a subordinate

activity of the same orchestra that plays for the opera. In the expanded New York

Philharmonic seasons Mahler had a symphonic vehicle that he may have dreamed of, but

had never realized, in Europe.

An important part of the press was hostile to Mahler, as composer and conductor. In

particular, he had a strained and strange relationship with Henry E. Krehbiel, who, as

music critic of the Tribune, was one of the city's most influential magistrates of musical 75

taste. Krehbiel, the author of the first history of the Philharmonic, had also been writing

the Philharmonic's program notes for many years and considered himself a guardian of the

Society's standards. He was strongly opposed to a great deal of what Mahler was doing as

conductor and as composer. Most of all he was outraged by the liberties that Mahler took

with the texts of the great masters of the past; for Krehbiel, an unjustified alteration in a

score of Beethoven was lèse-majesté if not sacrilege. Krehbiel was, of course, a better schol­

ar than Mahler, who, as an interpreter-conductor in an advanced stage, presented perfor­

mances of Beethoven and Schubert that would shock any well-educated musician of today.

W h o can doubt, for example, which side to espouse when reading Krehbiel's cririque of a

Mahler performance of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony;

. . . The first evidence of erraticism occurred in the famous cadenza, in the first

movement.

This Mr. Mahler phlebotomized by giving it to two oboes and beating time

for each note—not in the expressive adagio called for by Beethoven, but in a rigid

andante. Thus the rhapsodic utterance contemplated by the composer was turned

into a mere connecting link between two parts of the movement. Into the cadence

of the second subject of the third movement, Mr. Mahler injected a bit of

un-Beethovenian color by changing the horn part so that listeners familiar with

their Wagner were startled by hearing something very like Hagen's call from

Henry Edward Krehbiel, long-standing music critic for the New-York Daily Tribune, now

76 largely remembered for his criticisms of Mahler.

Götterdämmerung from the instruments which in the score simply sustain a

harmony voice in octaves. . . .

It did not help the relationship between the two men that Mahler had forbidden

Krehbiel to write any program notes about his compositions. Mahler was known to disap­

prove of all such printed aids. "At a concert," Krehbiel reported him as saying, "one should

listen, not look—use the ears, not the eyes." Krehbiel deferred to Mahler's wishes, but he

grumbled about it occasionally in his newspaper reviews with a certain petulance, as of a

wounded annotator.

So embittered did Krehbiel become that, although he was ordinarily correct in his

behavior, he published at the time of Mahler's death in 1911 , when others were writing

respectful or admiring obituaries, a violent attack on the defenseless departed. T h e pianist

and conductor Ossip Gabrilowitsch, supported by many other prominent persons, felt

obliged to issue a pamphlet in reply.

Audiences of today may think wistfully what a thrill it must have been to have heard

Mahler conducting the New York Philharmonic, but in 1909 and 1910 the audiences that

took advantage of the opportunity were small ones—"probably the smallest that ever

attended a Philharmonic concert in 50 years" and "perhaps the smallest in number that

ever gathered at a Philharmonic concert" are typical descriptions. It was, after all, the first

time that the Philharmonic had tried to give so many concerts in one season, and it took

time for a sufficient public to develop. Some of the old guard found Mahler too radical

both as composer and conductor. It was not that Krehbiel and some of his contemporaries

in New York failed to appreciate Mahler but, on the contrary, that they grasped the revo-

lutionary "dangerousness" of his compositions, which dared to experiment with materials

that had formerly been considered vulgar, and of his performance methods, which appealed

to a public that seemed undiscriminating to those who had been patrons of the old

Philharmonic. At the other extreme, the "masses" seemed to find the various educational

series unattractive; this was a disappointment to Mahler, who had talked at the beginning

of the season of popular-priced concerts that would give everyone the chance of hearing the

best music. Some sophisticated New Yorkers, moreover, resented Mahler's assumption that

they had to be educated. They reminded him that a good part of his repertory had long

been familiar to concertgoers in the city, that he tended to repeat pieces like Beethoven's

Fifth too often in a single season, and that the Boston Symphony Orchestra and

Damrosch's Symphony Society had already played in the same season several of the pieces

that he was making such a fuss about.

The New York public assumed that Mahler had been engaged for three years, but the

Committee was sounding out other conductors in case he became too demanding. Franz

Kneisel, better known as violinist than conductor, had been approached but would not

leave his current work for the one-year contract that was being discussed with him. So

manager Charlton was instructed to ask Mahler unofficially what his terms for the next

year would be. Mahler said that he would conduct 90 to 100 concerts, far more than the

46 of his first year and the 65 of the season then in progress, for the sum of $ 3 0 , 0 0 0 . T h e

Committee thereupon discontinued negotiations with Kneisel and asked Mahler to put

into writing his terms and conditions for the conductorship for the next season. When he

did, his proposition was rejected, and the Executive Commit tee was given power to con-

tinue negotiations with Felix Weingartner, to whose agent a cable had previously been 78

79

sent. If the Commit tee failed to complete a contract with Weingartner, it was to reopen

negotiations with Mahler! Neither side would have been well advised to buy a used car

from the other.

Mahler's two years represented the first time that the conservative Philharmonic, which

formerly had stood like a great rock in the midst of the swirling waters of change, had made

an effort to move with the new currents and even to influence their course. For Mahler the

experiment had often been a stormy experience, but for the Orchestra there was no ques­

tion that it had begun to succeed. In the first year of the reorganization, the number of con­

certs was three times as great as it had ever been before, and in the second year it was four

times as great. The deficit was very large, it is true, but there were generous citizens not

only willing to pay it, but also to give their time and skills to the cause, and in the second

year they had narrowed considerably the gap between the Orchestra's expenses and its

earned income. T h e expressed policy of the Guarantors ' Commit tee was "to reconcile the

commercially possible with the artistically desirable," and the Commit tee now knew, after

its two instructive years with Mahler, that an expanding Philharmonic was compatible with

the most exacting artistic standards.

In the life story of the Philharmonic, Mahler's brief term marks a moment of great

historic significance—the moment when the new rubbed abrasively against the old,

clearing a path for the future. But Mahler did not, as is generally supposed, sweep aside

with one brusque gesture the shaky structure of an old Philharmonic to begin his work

with an orchestra built entirely of new materials and on new principles. His period of

service can better be seen as a period of transition and he as an instrument of change

a change that had been gradually prepared, inside and outside the Philharmonic, for

many years before he appeared on the scene. There had been Theodore Thomas ' s plans

and demands for a "permanent" orchestra and his successful demonstrat ion in Chicago

of how it should be accomplished. There had been Walter Damrosch's proposal of the

Permanent Orchestra Fund, which outlined in 1903, before Mahler even came to

America, much the same plan that was finally put into effect in 1909. And there had

been, for six years before Mahler's term, the Conductors ' Fund that Richard Arnold and

E. Francis Hyde had raised from some of the same people—who would later support the

Guarantors' Fund. By the t ime that Mahler took over the Philharmonic, much of the way

had been prepared for him.

Program annotator of the New York Philharmonic and a guest conductor of the Orchestra's

Young People's Concerts for the 1959-60 season, Howard Shanet has served as Chairman of the

Columbia University Department of Music and Conductor of the University Orchestra.

81

Mahler at the Met by ROBERT TUGGLE

In the s u m m e r o f 1 9 0 8 , H e i n r i c h C o n r i e d m a d e o n e last effort a t tha t i m p o s s i b l e task

m a n a g i n g the M e t r o p o l i t a n O p e r a . H i s four s e a s o n s h a d been filled wi th c o n t r o v e r t

a n d d i s a g r e e m e n t , all c o m p o u n d e d b y h is o w n lack o f o p e r a t i c k n o w l e d g e . H e h a d

i nhe r i t ed E n r i c o C a r u s o f rom his p r e d e c e s s o r bu t out o f i g n o r a n c e r e d u c e d his f i r s t

con t r ac t by half. H i s s u c c e s s in b r e a k i n g the B a y r e u t h Fest ival ' s ho ld on W a g n e r ' s Parsi fal

had been b a l a n c e d by his p r e s e n t a t i o n o f R i c h a r d S t r auss ' s Salome, w h i c h s c a n d a l i z e d the

Real E s t a t e C o m p a n y that o w n e d the O p e r a H o u s e ; Salome was b a n n e d after o n e

p e r f o r m a n c e a n d a s c h e d u l e d ser ies c o n d u c t e d b y S t r a u s s h i m s e l f c a n c e l e d . A n d luck , t h a t

A caricature of Mahler made by Enrico Caruso, reproduced in

82 The New York Times, January 8, 1909

necessary ingredient in any theatrical endeavor, had avoided him altogether. On tour in San

Francisco, his company was caught in the 1906 earthquake, escaping without loss of life but

with sets and costumes, music and musical instruments all destroyed. T h e company

returned to New York with operatic warfare on the horizon. Oscar Hammerstein had built

his Manhattan Opera House on West 34th and would in 1906-7 provide serious

competition, not just with singers that the Met seemed to know nothing about, but with a

chief conductor, Cleofonte Campanini , better than anyone on the Met's roster. In May 1907

Conried wrote about conductors to one of his board members, "You speak of my

negotiations with Mottl and you suggest Nikisch. I have been in negotiations with Nikisch

for the last four years, and I will name the rest of the existing leading conductors to whom

I made offers since the day I became manager of the Conried Opera Company—Richter ,

Schuch, Weingartner, Muck, Strauss, Mahler, Mader. . . . P. S. Toscanini to whom I sent a

special agent to Milan, replied that no financial consideration would persuade him to accept

an engagement in America, and the reports concerning Mugnoni [Mugnone] were such as

to give me the conviction that he would be impossible with our orchestra, after two days.'

Finally, on June 6, 1907, Conried cabled from Bad Nauheim, a spa near Frankfurt where

he had gone for his failing health:

I A M HAPPY T O A N N O U N C E T H E E N G A G E M E N T O F T H E V E R Y

B E S T O F A L L M U S I C A L D I R E C T O R S G U S T A V M A H L E R F O R T H R E E

M O N T H S E A C H S E A S O N A T V E R Y F A V O R A B L E T E R M S LILI

L E H M A N N W E N T P E R S O N A L L Y T O M A H L E R F O R H A M M E R S T E I N

O F F E R I N G H I M E X O R B I T A N T T E R M S T O D I R E C T L O H E N G R I N

T A N N H A E U S E R A N D T R I S T A N M A H L E R N E G O T I A T E D W I T H M Y

K N O W L E D G E A N D C O N S E N T I R E C E I V E D T H E S A N C T I O N T O

E N G A G E M A H L E R F I V E W E E K S A G O T H R O U G H

O B E R H O F M E I S T E R P R I N C E M O N T E N U O V E B U T E M P E R O R S

C O N S E N T H A S T O B E G R A N T E D C O N R I E D .

News of Mahler's engagement reached the New York papers two days later. Through

the dozen or so newspapers and magazines that avidly covered operatic events, one can

trace mount ing anticipation of Mahler's arrival coupled with the disintegration of

Conried's health. By June 24, the Mail headlined: "Conried Still Ill; May N o t Return" and

followed with the information "Herr Mahler will be Mr. Conried's successor as director

of the Metropolitan Opera House ." T h e Telegraph found him better on July 23 and

observed, "He walks with difficulty, and two sticks. But legs are no more an essential to

an impresario than intellect to a tenor." In August, some of Conried's bad luck extended

in a deaf Swiss peasant who was run down and killed by Conried's automobile as he

toured outside Zurich.

Accounts of Mahler concentrated on his discipline in Vienna: " M A H L E R ,

M A R T I N E T IN O P E R A D I R E C T I O N , " said The New York Times in August. By

December the same paper was specific: "Mahler reformed everything: the orchestra, the

company, the scenic decorations: nothing escaped his attention, the least chorus singer no

more than the prima donna. He was orchestral conductor, singer, actor, stage manager,

scene painter, costumer. He even reformed the ballet. T h e day he began this reform it was

thought his fall was near at hand. . . . But they were mistaken about the solidity of the 84 85

director's position, as well as about the faithfulness of the ballet's friends—especially when

the director began to put young and pretty dancers in the front rows."

Mahler and his wife Alma sailed for America on December 11:

When the Kaiserin Auguste Victoria steamed up to Cherbourg. . . there were the

Mahlers, hand in hand, waiting at the dock. Alois Burgstaller [one of the Met's

heldentenors] was on board, and he and others cheered Mahler up so that the voyage,

though long, wasn't half bad after all, and Mahler played for Burgstaller at the ship's

concert off Nantucket on Friday.

As the huge steamer neared the Battery he showed keen interest in the Statue of

Liberty and the other large, if not necessarily impressive, monuments which greeted

him. Gustav Mahler is a tall, dark, unusual looking be-spectacled man, with a worn

and haggard face, marked with deep lines that seem to tell of a nervous and artistic

temperament. (American, December 22, 1907)

Mahler was met by assistants to Conried and Alfred Hertz, the conductor. It was a

Saturday, and after a stop at the Hotel Majestic, Mahler had his first sight of the Metropolitan

Opera House when he sat in Conried's box for the matinee of Tosca with Caruso, Emma

Eames, and Antonio Scotti. On Sunday afternoon, he was at Carnegie Hall for Walter

Damrosch and the New York Symphony Orchestra in a program that included Berlioz's

A page from the Metropolitan Opera paybooks, showing payments made to Mahler (in

86 Austrian crowns) in 1907 and 1908.

Symphonie fantastique and the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto played by Teresa Carreno.

"On Monday Mr. Conried introduced him to the [Metropolitan] orchestra, and after a

few words of greeting he took up the baton for a rehearsal of the Tristan score. He had not

proceeded far when he characteristically proclaimed: 'All other rehearsals in the theatre must

cease.' A chorus rehearsal going on in another room was thereupon stopped" (Musical

America, December 28, 1907). Singing her first Isolde anywhere was Olive Fremstad, who

had coached the role with Mahler in Vienna the previous summer. Burgstaller had been

requested by Mahler but injured his shoulder when thrown from a dog cart in Hoboken and

was replaced by Heinrich Knote as Tristan.

Mahler's debut on January 1, 1908, was the last great coup of Conried's management.

T h e gala audience included two New York Isoldes, Lillian Nordica, in blue satin, and

Johanna Gadski , in black. "When the Metropolitan's new musical director first appeared in

the orchestra pit half the persons in the parquet rose to get a good view of him, and there

was thunderous applause from every part of the auditorium. He bowed dignifiedly and

took his seat in his chair" (Press). There was enthusiastic applause after every act and a

magnificent laurel wreath at one of the curtain calls.

All the newspapers were s t u c k by Mahler's consideration for the singers, his mastery of

orchestral balance. W J. Henderson's review of Tristan und Isolde in the Sun summarizes the

response of all New York critics. "From the beginning of the vorspiel not a full forte of

trumpets and trombones was heard till Isolde raised the cup to her lips and then it came with

the crash of a catastrophe. . .. He held to the firmest and most finely spun texture the iridescent

web of tone in which Wagner enmeshed his ideas. . . . [B]est of all, the eloquent variety of

88 Wagner's instrumentation was displayed by the simple process of bringing out clearly every

solo phrase, while the harmonic and contrapuntal background was never slighted." However,

Henderson and many others pointed out that none of this was new, that Anton Seidl "did all

these things in the brave days of old, when there were also mighty singers in the land."

Although a master of balance between voices and instruments, Mahler appears to have

made one serious miscalculation. The Press was only one of several papers that criticized his

cuts. Under a headline reading " M A H L E R M U T I L A T E S W A G N E R S C O R E " was this:

"Many persons who heard the last act of Tristan und Isolde as performed last night in the

Metropolitan Opera House [with most of Brangäne's and Marke's music missing] wondered

whether Mahler would have dared to present Wagner's score in such abbreviated form abroad,

or whether he had reserved this slashing for the 'musical barbarians' of New York. Mahler is

a great conductor, a great musician. But if he wishes to retain the respect of American opera-

goers he will have to treat them as intelligent lovers of music, whose experience of Wagner

opera is not of today. Unless the important portions of Tristan und Isolde which Mahler sees

fit to omit, are restored speedily, operagoers will feel they are being defrauded of that which

they have a right to expect" (Press, January 10, 1908). The performance had begun at 7:45

p.m. and ended, after three acts and two long intermissions, at 11:30. (The heavily cut

performances led by Artur Bodanzky in the 1930s were of the same length.)

Although Mahler was sounded out about managing the Metropolitan from the first days

of his arrival in New York, it is certain that no formal offer was made and that his

correspondence with his friend, the designer Alfred Roller, in Vienna, about Roller's coming

to New York was somewhat naive. As early as January 15, 1908, a member of Conried's board,

Eliot Gregory, reported to another, James H. Hyde, in Paris: "We have been having a most

exciting time here at the opera. We made up our minds, as you know, that Conried would have 89

to go, and the question of his successor has remained a burning one. Then Mahler the great

German conductor came to us and has been a great success. [Otto] Kahn at once jumped at

the idea of putting him at the head of the Opera. This we all sat on as we were anxious to work

away from the German atmosphere. . . . To make a long tale short, we have at last decided (only

last evening) after a very hot sitting, at [Robert] Goelet's house. We take as Impresario the man

from the Scala Milan Gatti Cattzzai [Giulio Gatti-Casazza] and with him [Arturo] Toscanini

as conductor of all French and Italian music. And Mahler for the German operas. [Rawlins]

Cottenet sails next week with the contracts for Italy and one of the Italians will return with him

to take control here at the end of the season. This is Cottenet's plan with Mahler added to

please Kahn, and I am convinced an excellent one, as it gives us the three greatest men in

Europe for the three p laces . . . . Toscanini and Mahler stand the undisputed heads of their class

and with them we have what no opera house in the world has ever been able to afford before."

Mahler turned next to Don Giovanni. His announcement that he would require 15

rehearsals made his soloists gasp. "This number of rehearsals is not unusual to demand from

orchestra and chorus, but never before in this country have the principals been required to

appear at so many preparatory performances. . . . [H]e has demanded from leading men and

primadonnas the same amount of preparation that he would from the last member of the

chorus" (American, January 9, 1908). Later, no one would admit dissatisfaction. "As the

Metropolitan orchestra finished its fifteenth and last rehearsal yesterday, playing five and a

half hours union labor time, without a murmur, one of the exhausted men said: 'Tired? Yes!

But I feel that I am at least a musician once more'" (Evening Sun, January 23, 1908).

90 The old Metropolitan Opera House, at Broadway and 39th Street, 1912.

Mahler not only converted his musicians, he transformed the score. On January 3 1 ,

1908, he led a cast that featuted Antonio Scotti in the title role, E m m a Eames, Johanna

Gadski, Marcella Sembrich, Alessandro Bonci (lured away from the Manhattan Opera), and

Feodor Chaliapin. According to Henderson, "Mozart's Don Giovanni was performed at the

Metropolitan Opera House last night in a manner which must have astonished many of the

old habitues of the house. For many years this great classic opera has been offered at the

Metropolitan as a bargain counter attraction. . . . People have been drawn in crowds to hear

six stars at prices usually charged for three. But the mise en scène has always been neglected.

T h e acts have been chopped up . . . some scenes were incomprehensible . . . [and] Mozart's

dramatic unity sent into outer darkness. And no attempt has been made to unify the styles

and interpretations of the various singers in an organic whole. It has been every singer for

herself and the evil one take Mozart. All this has been changed by the artistic influence of

one man, and the result was that last night's performance moved swiftly, steadily, even

relentlessly toward its great climaxes—one in the finale of the first act, another in the closing

scene of the opera. The credit must be given to Gustav Mahler . . ." (Sun). Mahler changed

almost everything. Don Giovanni had never before been presented in New York in only two

acts (usually there were four!). According to the Press, "Instead of occupying the usual post

close in the first row of the parquet, Mahler sat on a raised platform well forward in the

orchestra pit, with only a grand piano between him and the stage. On this instrument, the

strings of which were covered with thin paper in order to imitate the sound of a harpsichord,

Mahler himself played the recitative accompaniments usually intrusted to an assistant

conductor behind the scenes." Krehbiel in The Tribune added that "he occasionally added a

92 bit of adornment to the dry chords which ordinarily suffice to buoy up the rapid musical

speech and introduce the key of the songs. He even did this in the dramatic recitative for

full orchestra which introduces Donna Anna's great air, 'Or sai chi l'onore.'" Press: "Certain

scenes were carried out with a perfection of musical detail never before attained in this city,

for example, in the ballroom scene, there were three orchestras on the stage, just as the

composer intended, and these three small groups of musicians succeeded in playing the

music allotted to them with rhythmical precision and clarity. Mahler, with no apparent

effort, held the various forces fully in check. . . . Anorher stage band was brought on the

boards in the final scene. . . ." The chorus was eliminated from the first-act Finale, there were

neither guests nor trombones in the final scene, and the epilogue, according to Viennese

custom, was omitted. While Mahler may have breathed new life into the score, Don

Giovanni was not heard again at the Met until 1929-30.

With only one work at the Metropolitan was Mahler able to give an impression of what

he had achieved with music drama in Vienna. For the revival of Fidelio on March 20, 1908,

Conried had duplicated the Alfred Roller production. An account in the Evening Sun

details the accomplishment:

Heinrich Conried in five years of Metropolitan opera now ending has made his

productions of Parsifal and Salome the sensations of two worlds, old and new. He

has added in Meistersinger and Hansel and Gretel twin joys at least to this

hemisphere. But it remained for last night's superb revival of Fidelio to mark the

red-letter evening of Conried's closing days. Here he did the artistic thing. Here was

the miracle. . . . [Our audience] gave to a century-old music-drama the most silent

and sensational tribute that we have witnessed on any stage this season. Tremendous, 93

nothing less, was the rapt attention. The new Vienna stage effects began at first rise

of curtain, in a jailer's lodge of some Spanish dungeon-keep. Through one deep-

barred window grating streamed the slanting sunlight as from a high angle above.

You felt, not saw, the depth. . . . The quick march to which enters Pizarro, the

villain, saw a silent closing of curtains. This was new. They parted again on that

"most massive scene" that has ever been set on this stage. Stone walls of a prison

exterior towered fifty feet up in the air. Low arched gratings gave upon dungeons

beneath. A solid wall, pierced by a stone stairway, led further up and out where tall

cypress treetops could be seen in a glare of daylight.

Only Gorky's Nachtasyi, in the days of Conried's German Irving Place [Theatre],

has matched the picture of human misery presented when the wretches from the cells

were driven, blinking, blind-eyed, out into that daylight by troops in uniforms. . . .

The usual pause after this act, and before Act II, was made a long one. . . . There was

not a sound when the orchestra began its poignant harmonies, a drawing of erased

lines, a spirit-seance, from which all trace of the trite or obvious had vanished.

Again the mind's eye sank to profounder regions as the scene opened. A man half

dead lay on the floor of a cavern hewn from solid rock. A jailer and that mysterious

person, "Another," dug a grave. They talked in awe, spoke jerkily, but spoke. Then they

sang—duet, trio and, atop of these, a quartet.

As that expected murderer crept down all the zigzag of stairs, his cloaked body as

a shadow on the wall, and hardly that, it was thrilling to see a great audience sway

Metropolitan Opera program for Fidelio conducted by Mahler, March 20, 1908. 94

forward in its chairs, keenly waiting. The pistol; the trumpet—"most dramatic

moment in all opera"—did not fail.

The music did not cease. The slow octave descent of Beethoven's Leonore Overture

No. 3, never so played before, was timed to a weird fall of curtains held apart,

imperceptibly yielding, with mesmeric magic. At the end of the ensuing music, after

straining every nerve to catch its lightest pianissimo, the house went crazy in the dark.

The riot of Mahler equalled that over Caruso in Trovatore. The conductor bowed

and bowed. The last quick scene of shrill topnotes on a high rampart of the prison set

the auditors blinking with dazzling light. Then recalls and flowers, and it was all over.

The more liberties a man like Mahler takes with Mozart, Beethoven, Wagner, the

better for Mozart, Beethoven and Wagner. The cast of the opera . . . was a noble one.

Mahler's success with Fidelio is filled with irony. By the time of its New York premiere

the Roller production had already been retired in Vienna by Mahler's successor, Felix

Weingartner. Best remembered in New York for Mahler's "innovation" of placing the

Leonore N o . 3 between the two scenes of Act I I , this was in fact nothing new, since Anton

Seidl had done the same at the Met in the 1880s and it had been positioned there as early

as 1849 in London and Amsterdam. More significantly, Mahler's relationship with the

opera had already changed. By the end of the 1907-8 season, the Conried Opera Company

was out of existence. Mahler's four-year contract as " C h i e f Conductor" was null and void.

In May, Giu l io Gatti-Casazza made his first visit to N e w York and thereafter the newspaper

that had been filled with Mahler shortly before were now preoccupied with Gatt i and is

96 colleague, Arturo Toscanini.

In the paybook for the 1908-9 season, the balance has shifted, with both Mahler and

Toscanini listed simply as "Conductor." Although Mahler was able to hold on to Tristan

for a second season (Toscanini had wanted to bring over "his" production from La Scala),

Toscanini in his first year became central to the functioning of the opera house. In

1908-9, Mahler conducted 23 times for a salary of $18,926, while Toscanini conducted

69 times with a salary of $31 ,200 . In his third and last Metropolitan season, Mahler led

a scant four performances of Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades. In all, Gustav Mahler

conducted 54 times at the Metropolitan Opera, 50 performances of opera and four

concerts. His repertoite consisted of Mozart's Don Giovanni (6) and Le nozze di Figaro (8) ,

Fidelio (4) , Wagner's Tristan und Isolde (11) , Die Walküre (5) and Siegfried (5) ,

Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades (4) , and Smetana's Bartered Bride (7) . At two gala concerts,

Mahler and Toscanini shared the podium. Al though we tend to think of Toscanini as the

younger man, suggesting a wide gap in their ages, the difference was only seven years.

They are said to have had mutual respect for one another as conductors, even though the

arrival of Toscanini effectively ended Mahler's operatic career in New York. Mahler died

in 1911 while Toscanini lived until 1957, conducting almost to the end but never a note

of Mahler's. In 1905 , he had described Mahler as "not a genuine artist" and declared that

his music has neither personality nor genius." However, time has a way of rearranging

things and the final victory was Mahler's. Composers , or at least some of them, live longer

than conductors.

Robert Tuggle, Director of Archives at the Metropolitan Opera, is currently at work on a

biography of Kirsten Flagstad. 97

98

Gustav Mahler and the Guarantors:

The Management of Genius

by JACK KAMERMAN

Symphony orchestras, like all organizations, must balance the need to perform their

primary task (making music, in this case) and the need to remain solvent. At the

New York Philharmonic during the 1909-10 and part of the 1910-11 seasons,

Gustav Mahler's work as a conductor was caught between these two often

conflicting goals. These organizational imperatives hold true for any occupational life, even

the work of a genius in the arts. This insight is often lost because the giant shadows cast by

figures like Mahler tend to obscure the humdrum of everyday life.

This announcement appeared in the March 1909 program, which was for

Safonoff's farewell concert.

The Philharmonic Society of New York in Mahler's time was administered by the

Committee of Guarantors, a committee largely the creation of Mary R. Sheldon, wife of the

banker and Republican National Commit tee Treasurer, George R. Sheldon. The other pivot

in Mahler's life at the Philharmonic was Minnie Untermyer, wife of the famous lawyer

Samuel Untermyer. Corseted by the Gilded Age, these women were nonetheless in the arts

what their husbands were in banking and the law: strong, shrewd, influential, and successful

It is in the magnetic field created by the considerable personal and social force of these two

women—and of course a third, his wife Alma—that Mahler's career at the Philharmonic and

life in New York played themselves out.

T h e year 1908 was a turning point in Mahler's brief career at the Metropolitan Opera.

Giulio Gatti-Casazza had been appointed General Manager and had brought Arturo

Toscanini with him from La Scala. It was soon clear that Toscanini was invading Mahler's

repertoire and undermining his authority, as he was to do to Mengelberg at the

Philharmonic two decades later.

In terms of a conductor's need for artistic control and the organizational support that this

control is invariably based on, Mahler's situation at the Metropolitan was precarious. That

fact alone, even if the situation at the Philharmonic had not become so interesting, would

have made him susceptible to a career move. But the Committee's offer was exceed ing

interesting. They were offering good money, the chance to rebuild the Orchestra to his

specifications, and an opportunity to perform his own composit ions—a hope that was

realized only to a very small extent.

From the Philharmonic's point of view, its artistic and financial condition had made

100 Mahler, the conductor and orchestra-builder, increasingly attractive. The Philharmonic in

1908, under Wassily Safanoff, was still a players' cooperative whose permanent performing

members had dwindled to 37, down from 64 in 1897. This organizational structure may

have worked well in the Orchestra's early years, but it was an anachronism in the increasingly

rational cultural and financial world of the 20th century. (Interestingly, the Royal

Philharmonic Society of London faced similar pressures in the same period, making it

vulnerable in 1916 to the takeover by Thomas Beecham, a sort of Guarantors' Commit tee

of One. In other words, this relationship between structure and funding was not unique to

New York.) In addition, the Philharmonic faced solid competition from Walter Damrosch's

newly reinvigorated New York Symphony, which performed 28 concerts in New York City

during the 1907-08 season as compared with the Philharmonic's 16.

The Philharmonic's financial condition was tenuous in spite of efforts to shore up its

support. In 1903, many of these same guarantors had attempted to restructure the

Philharmonic along the same lines as they now proposed. The members of the Philharmonic

Society voted down the proposal because, in their eyes, their situation was not desperate

enough, and because they did not want to lose artistic control over their concerts and

administrative control over their society.

But by 1908, when Mrs. Sheldon advanced the idea again, the situation was ripe. With

the help of Mrs. Untermyer, she organized the Committee of Guarantors and put together

pledges totaling over $100 ,000 to underwrite the three coming seasons, to create a

permanent orchestra, and to bring Gustav Mahler to conduct the concerts and rebuild the

Orchestra. This time, the offer to the Philharmonic Society proved irresistible.

Mrs. Sheldon's approach to reconstructing the Philharmonic lay somewhere between the

Wharton School of Business and the Edith Wharton school of social relations. To begin 101

with, she organized her committee strategically, choosing both men and women on the basis

of their social contacts (their own or their access to considerable fortunes) and their

commitment, for any of several reasons, to musical life in New York.

Her two surviving letters in the New York Philharmonic's Archives are addressed to the

Orchestra's manager, Felix Leifels, and list 120 guarantors and potential guarantors. The

names on this list read like a New York pantheon of the wealthy and socially well-positioned.

In businesslike fashion, by way of protecting an investment, the price she exacted for this

financial security and artistic excellence was almost total control. As in Beecham's takeover

in London, the Board of Directors of the Philharmonic ceased to exist except for a nominal

board whose annual meetings were suspended and whose members were selected by the

Guarantors' Committee. The Committee made all financial decisions, and either made of

had veto power over all decisions relating to personnel, engagements, publicity, the number

of concerts, repertoire, and soloists. At its annual meeting, held on February 12, 1909, the

Philharmonic Society ceded control to the Committee: "Resolved that the Board of

Directors be [sic] and it is hereby authorized and instructed to make such contracts and take

such action as the Commit tee of the Guarantors shall designate, and especially to choose a

conductor for the ensuing season upon such terms as such Committee shall specify."

In the first season, 1909-10, this seemed to work to Mahler's advantage. Relations were

amicable, particularly given the Mahlers' closeness to Minnie Untermyer and, equally

important, to her husband, Samuel Untermyer. Samuel Untermyer was a gifted lawyer who

"The creator of the interminable symphony." A caricature of Mahler that appeared in a New

102 York newpaper, from the Metropolitan Opera pressbook for November 1908

could box men of the stature of J. P. Morgan into a corner (as he did at the Senate's Pujo

Committee hearings in 1912). He had successfully represented artists like Mary Garden and

was a consummate negotiator who would steer Mahler through several crises with the

Guarantors' Committee.

By the second season, however, relations between Mahler and the Committee were

strained. At the Guarantors' Commit tee meeting of January 4, 1911, several matters central

to Mahler's position at the Philharmonic came up. First, Mahler's request for $5 ,000 to

conduct an extra 20 concerts during the current season was submitted to arbitration. The

Committee wished these concerts to be added without compensation to Mahler. However

"the decision of the arbitrator [Samuel Untermyer] was rendered against the Committee

[and] Mr. Mahler . . . consented, at the suggestion of Mr. Unrermyer, to reduce his claim to

$3 ,000" (Minutes of the Committee of Guarantors, January 4, 1911). At the same meeting

a letter from Franz Kneisel was read in which he responded to the Committee's offer of

appointment to the post of conductor for the following season. The Minutes mention that

Kneisel had written that, while "he would feel highly honored to accept the position, "he

could not leave "his present field of activity [leader of the Kneisel Quartet] for a contract of

one year only." The Minutes of that meeting go on to say that the Committee instructed the

Orchestra's manager Loudon Charlton to "unofficially inquire from Mr. Mahler his attitude

regarding the acceptance of the position of conductor for next season and also his terms.'

The Minutes of the following meeting a week later mention that "Mr. Mahler has expressed

his willingness to conduct 90 to 100 concerts for $30 ,000 ." At the next meeting on January

18, the Committee instructed Charlton to get those terms in writing. At the last meeting of

January, the formation of two subcommittees, one devoted to finance, one devoted in

programming, was approved.

What followed was the incident that has come to symbolize the perception of Mahler's

overwhelming problems with the Commit tee: the infamous meeting between Mahler and

certain members of the Commit tee at Mrs. Sheldon's house at 24 East 38th Street in mid-

February of 1911 . As described by Alma Mahler in Gustav Mahler: Memories and Letters,

Mahler was told exactly what he could and could not do, both verbally and in the form of

a legal document drawn up from notes taken by a lawyer who was present, and who

e m e r g e d from behind a curtain drawn aside "at a word from Mrs. Sheldon. . . . He was so

taken aback and so furious that he came back to me trembling in every limb; and it was

only by degrees that he was able to take any pleasure in his work." Alma also mentions that

"He decided to ignore all these ladies in the future. T h e only exception was Mrs.

Untermeyer [sic], his guardian angel. She was away at this time; otherwise nothing of all

this could have happened."

Perhaps, and perhaps not. With or without Mrs. Untermyer, the Committee, having

been backed into accepting Mahler for another season, would almost certainly have felt the

need to demonstrate its control over its conductor, although perhaps in a less heavy-handed

manner.

It is probably this incident that prompted Loudon Charlton's remark in an interview he

gave in the Cincinnati Commercial Tribune of March 28, 1912, a year after Mahler's death.

Confirming the rumor that he would be leaving the Philharmonic, Charlton commented on

the parallel between his troubles at the Philharmonic and Stokowski's at the Cincinnati

Symphony: "Same as it seems to be here," he said, "too many women." "Is that what killed

Mahler?" asked the reporter. "It is. Poor Mahler. He used to say every time the doorbell rang: 104 105

'Here comes another fat woman; now for more trouble.' "

Of course, as Henry-Louis de La Grange makes clear in his essay "Mahler and the New

York Philharmonic: T h e Truth Behind the Legend," it was endocarditis that killed Mahler,

not his troubles with the women of the Committee.

Mahler's relations with the Commit tee are central to an understanding of Mahler's

career in New York and the mythology that has grown around it. While assessing his

success or failure in New York is beyond the scope of a brief article, a few points may help

to frame the answer.

First, there is apparently a great need to see Mahler as a martyr, in this instance, to the

financial concerns of his patrons, not at all like the worldly Richard Strauss, who handled

himself with distinction in the marketing of his art. Why has this myth persisted? Part of the

reason is the resilience of the 19th-century notion, tied perhaps to the preponderance of

19th-century works in the repertoire of most orchestras, that great artists are inevitably

unappreciated in their own lifetimes. Part of the answer may have to do with the tendency

to use the present to refract our view of the past. Elie Siegmeister in his Music and Society

saw geniuses like Haydn as victims of the aristocracy, made to sit with the other servants and

wear the livery of their oppressors. Young Haydn took another view, writing home proudly

to his family about how splendid he looked in the livery of the Esterházy family and how

proud he was to be in their service. For all of his complaints, Mahler liked the Philharmonic

post enough to seek it and to commit to it until his illness interceded. Part of the myth's

persistence may stem from Viennese guilt. Mahler wasn't the first musician in Vienna ill

treated in life and canonized in death.

106 T h e need to see Mahler as a martyr and the tendency to reconstruct the past from the

point of view of the present are also responsible in part for the notion that Mahler had a

pathological preoccupation with death because of the atypically great number of his siblings

who died. As Kurt Blaukopf pointed out in Mahler, it may have been an atypically great

number for our time, but not for Mahler's.

Second, when it comes to fixing blame, historians and biographers (two major

exceptions mentioned above) tend to "round up the usual suspects" and hang the usual

villains. Mrs. Sheldon in particular has gotten a bad shake, perhaps because the audience for

music history resents the intrusion of commercial considerations into "pure art," much more

perhaps than performing artists themselves. But one thing is very clear: If it hadn't been for

Mrs. Sheldon and her committee, in all likelihood Mahler would not have had the

opportunity to build a great orchestra, nor to perform his music in the United States to even

the limited extent that he did, nor, for that matter, to make the money he made.

Whether or not it fits our ideas about great art or about the role of such women in its

production, it was the Mrs. Sheldons of the world of early 20th-century music who enabled

geniuses like Mahler to fulfill their destinies. •

Jack Kamerman is a Professor of Sociology at Kean University in Union, New Jersey. In

collaboration with Desmond Mark, of the Hochschule für Musik und darstellende Kunst in

Vienna, he is currently at work on a book about Mahler in New York and Vienna.

107

Mary Sheldon:

A Woman of Substan ce

by MARION R. CASEY

his agi ta t ion s e e ms to have been s tar ted by two or three restless women

wi th no occupa t i on a n d m o r e m o n e y than they s eem to k n o w wha t to

do wi th ," charged an angry Walter D a m r o s c h in the pages of The New

York Times in A u g u s t 1 9 0 8 . He then d i smi s sed M r s . G e o r g e R . (Mary)

S h e l d o n a n d the nascen t Ph i lha rmon ic G u a r a n t o r s ' C o m m i t t e e wi th the o p i n i o n , "There

are peop l e to w h o m m u s i c i s on ly f o o d for ne rvous exc i tement a n d each successive

E u r o p e a n celebrity vis i t ing this coun t ry a toy to p lay wi th . " D a m r o s c h was r e spond ing to

108

Engagement portrait for the 18-year-old Mary Seney, later Mrs. Sheldon,

painted by G.P.A. Healy in 1881.

an interview Mrs . Sheldon gave to the Times cor respondent in Paris, in which she

announced that Gustav Mahler would conduc t a symphony orchestra in New York for the

1909-10 season.

Mrs . Sheldon had spent the spring of 1908 engaging Mahler for two festival concerts

at Carnegie Hall that coming winter. In April she told The New York Times, "Mr. Mahler's

influence has been deeply felt at the Metropol i tan Ope ra House this winter and we have to

thank Mr. [Heinrich] Conr ied for br inging h im over. Whi l e he is here it would be a pity if

he should not have a chance to conduc t purely orchestral music wi th an orchestra of his

own. Since the idea first came to me I have talked it over with many of my friends, and all

of t hem have been extremely enthusiast ic ." By the t ime Mrs . Sheldon spoke to the press

again that summer , she had already been to M u n i c h to solicit advice from Richard Strauss

and Felix Mot t l about improving the Orchest ra and, according to the Times, had "already

raised a large subscript ion fund."

W h a t peeved Damrosch , however, was not Mrs . Sheldon's interest in Mahler. It was her

claim that "New York orchestras at present are not wor thy" and her de te rmina t ion "to go

ahead and form another" that would be "the greatest orchestra America has ever heard."

Damrosch was no d o u b t aggravated to read Mrs . Sheldon's account of a meet ing in May

wi th Richard Arnold , revealing that the though t of a third symphony orchestra in New

York had made the Phi lharmonic Society nervous. According to Sheldon, Arnold

reportedly said: "There is no t room for another orchestra in N e w York; let's pu t the two

organizat ions together and let Mahler conduc t our orchestra."

If the story is t rue, Mrs . Sheldon mus t have been delighted at Arnold 's capitulation to

a plan she and several o ther wealthy New Yorkers (along with Walter Damrosch) had put

forward as early as 1903 and which the Orches t r a—tak ing exception to the idea of giving

up control of the organization's finances—rejected. On the other hand, it is possible that

Mrs. Sheldon had just executed a clever political maneuver to pressure the Ph i lharmonic to

come a round to her po in t of view. Offering the Ph i lharmonic to Mahler in 1909-10 came

is a surprise to The New York Times, which was under the impression that the Orchest ra

had commi t t ed to Wassily Safonoff. Mrs . Sheldon took the oppor tun i ty of this Times

Interview to clearly restate the Guarantors ' prerequisites:

It would be necessary to make many changes in the organization. The strings, I

think, could scarcely be improved, but some of the other parts would have to be

reinforced. Then a certain number of our board would have to be placed on the

Philharmonic board. . . . [As Strauss and Mottl suggested,] it would be best to

plan the season of our orchestra to last thirty weeks, and that is another

arrangement which must be made with the Philharmonic, as their present season

lasts only sixteen. . . . I shall see Mr. Arnold immediately upon my return. It

That winter the r u m o r mill abounded with reports of the potential rehabilitation of the

Philharmonic. Mrs . Sheldon was coy wi th the press; on December 9, 1908, the New York

Sun wrote that she was "not qui te ready to give ou t " details. Two days later, in a letter to

the editor of The New York Times, Mrs . Sheldon revealed what , on the surface, seemed to

be a fundamental shift in her th ink ing since April: "So far as we can see there is no th ing

'hysterical' about this plan, bu t a plain and commonsense a t t empt to save someth ing that 110

is very well worth saving, and benefiting thereby the musical life of New York. Nor is it,

may say, an attempt to form an orchestra for the benefit of any one conductor." The

phoenix of the 1903 plan was rising from the ashes!

By February the following year, Mrs. Sheldon's proposed restructuring had indeed been

accepted, paving the way for Mahler's engagement with the Philharmonic beginning in the

autumn of 1909. T h e historic reorganization plan was signed by Mary and George

Sheldon, Ruth Dana Draper, Henry Lane Eno, Ernest H. Schelling, and Nelson S. Spencer.

Walter Damrosch's characterization of the Guarantors as "two or three restless women with

no occupation and more money than they seem to know what to do with," as well as

Loudon Charlton's remark that Mahler's subsequent troubles with the Guarantors were the

result of "too many women," obscure the intelligence, business acumen, political savvy, and

cultural sophistication of these women and men.

Mary Seney Sheldon was the descendant of men who had been actively involved in the

early American republic: Joshua Seney represented Maryland in the Continental Congress

and James Nicholson was one of the first commodores in the United States Navy. Her

grandfather, Robert Seney, was a graduate of Columbia College and a Methodist minister

who preached in Astoria (in present-day Queens County, New York). His son was the well

known banker, philanthropist, and art collector George Ingraham Seney (1826-93) , who

was educated at Wesleyan and New York University. George Seney married Phoebe Moser

of a prominent Brooklyn family, in 1849 and their daughter, Mary, one of nine children

was born on July 3, 1863. By the time she was a teenager, the Seney family was living at

Montague Terrace in "one of the finest houses in Brooklyn," and her father was the

president of the Metropolitan Bank in Manhattan, which was a national institution.

Mary Seney Sheldon grew up in a philanthropic family. In 1881, George Seney gave

half a million dollars to establish the Methodist Hospital in what is now Park Slope,

Brooklyn. That same year, he also gave away 18-year-old Mary as the bride of George

Rumsey Sheldon, a Harvard graduate who had his own banking firm in New York City.

Within three years, as a result of the panic of 1884, the Seney family was forced to sell

its home as well as auction off nearly 300 of George Seney's fine collection of paintings

to pay depositors. Despite this setback, Mary Seney Sheldon's father still made major

charitable contributions to local institutions like the Industrial H o m e for Homeless

Children, the Eye and Ear Infirmary, the Long Island (now Brooklyn) Historical Society,

and the Brooklyn Library. After her father's death in 1893, Mary Sheldon continued this

philanthropic tradition by personally supervising many of these benefactions.

In 1908, Mary Sheldon was a 45-year-old worldly woman with financial and

political experience under her belt, when she maneuvered to put Mahler on the

Philharmonic's podium and determined to build "the greatest orchestra America has

ever heard." She had two daughters, kept a yacht at Glen Cove on Long Island, and

opened her home in the Murray Hill section of Manhattan's east side for frequent

musicales. Mary Sheldon had watched her husband, a high-level Republican official,

help put Charles Evans Hughes in the governor's mansion in Albany in 1906 and

Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft in the White House in 1904 and 1908.

Her colleagues in the endeavor to reorganize the Philharmonic were 60-year-old

Ruth Dana Draper, the daughter of the publisher of the New York Sun and the widow

of a prominent professor of clinical medicine at Columbia , Dr. William Draper, who

had also been a gifted musician; and Nelson S. Spencer, a 52-year-old pioneer in the 112 113

artificial silk industry and a public-interest lawyer who had been counsel for Governor

Hughes in 1907. Two younger men rounded out the core of Mrs. Sheldon's group: Henry

Lane Eno, at 37 years of age President of the Fifth Avenue Building Co. but far better

known in cultural and intellectual circles as a psychologist, poet, and author (his verse play

Baglioni was published in 1905); and the European-trained pianist and composer Ernest

H. Schelling, age 32, "a connoisseur of books, prints and objects of art" whose wife, Lucy

How Draper, had been one of the signatories of the original 1903 plan.

Supporting Mrs. Sheldon's reorganization efforts were sustaining members of the

Guarantors' Committee who made three-year financial pledges. These included wealthy

men like John D. Rockefeller, J. Pierpont Morgan, Joseph Pulitzer, August Belmont, and

Thomas Fortune Ryan, but also some formidable women. Harriet (Mrs. Charles Beatty)

Alexander and Mary (Mrs. Edward H.) Harriman, both prominent hostesses and

philanthropists in their own right, served as Philharmonic Guarantors and, in spite of

Walter Damrosch's comments about rich ladies, also as directors of the Symphony Society

(so did Henry Lane Eno).

Not least among the women of the Guarantors was Minnie Carl (Mrs. Samuel)

Untermyer, the daughter of a German political refugee and the wife of the prominent

attorney. Their town house at 2 East 54th Street was open to a wide variety of artists,

musicians, and statesmen. Untermyer was a delegate to the National Democratic

conventions in 1904 and 1908, yet when it came to musical matters, political affiliations

were set aside. He had served as legal counsel for Damrosch, Sheldon, and others who

Profile of Gustav Mahler, 1909. 114

proposed the takeover of the Philharmonic in 1903. With Mahler in the city, Mary Sheldon

now worked with Minnie Untermyer, Ruth Dana Draper, and others to resurrect the 1903

plan. Their Commit tee for the two Festival Concerts, which evolved into the Philharmonic

Guarantors ' Commit tee , drew up a circular letter in April 1908 that declared:

We feel that a man of Mr. Mahler's eminence who has entered so wholly into the

spirit of training a really fine orchestra for this City, will have trained the men to

such a degree of perfection, that, if in the future, another conductor should have

to be considered, this orchestra already formed, shall be of such a standard of

excellence as to appeal to other eminent conductors should the moment arise to

engage them. Mr. Mahler sees the promise of the very best in orchestral

development in this country and it only rests with us to determine whether we will

support the best.

Two and a half years later, in November 1910, the Musical Courier confirmed Mary

Sheldon's vision. "A woman, forceful as well as tender, with a consuming love of art and a

deep love for humanity, has, by the aid of a few friends and her own determination

provided New York with a great orchestra, a thing that never existed until this new

combination took matters in hand. Like almost every one who does something

extraordinary for the world, this woman, outside of her immediate circle of friends and

acquaintances, has not received the appreciation due her. Mrs. George R. Sheldon . . . is the

lady who has wrought this marvel, and it is high time the American musical public was

116 convinced of the fact."

On May 28, 1912, Mary R. Seney Sheldon became the first woman elected President

of the New York Philharmonic, a position not to be held by a woman again for nearly seven

decades. She died after a long illness on June 16, 1913, a month shy of her 50th birthday,

Mahler's age when he died just two years before. As late as May 2 2 , she hosted in her home

what was to be the last meeting of the Executive Commit tee of the Board of Directors

before her death. T h e minutes of their first gathering after her death, in an unusually long

tribute, express "the great affection and regard in which she was held by all its members,"

recording "her untiring services to the Society and the cause of music and . . . the

immeasurable loss which the Society and the individual members of the Board will suffer

in their deprivation of her presence and of her activities."

Mary Sheldon worked both behind the scenes and in the public eye nearly 100 years ago

to strengthen the New York Philharmonic financially and artistically, bringing it into the

modern world. Through her efforts, the sum of $300 ,000 (equal to $3.4 million today) was

raised to support the Orchestra at the very moment that Gustav Mahler assumed its musical

leadership. The confluence of these two achievements was pivotal in the history of the

Orchestra, setting a new standard of excellence for the future. Mary Sheldon would be pleased

to see her vision fulfilled, carrying the Orchestra's Mahler legacy into the 21st century. •

Marion R. Casey is an adjunct professor of American history at New York University. Assistant

Archivist for the New York Philharmonic from 1985 to 1990, she ivas Historian and Associate

Producer of the video documentary From Shore to Shore: Irish Traditional Music in New

York City (1993) and a contributor to The Encyclopedia of New York City (Yale, 1995). 117

Mahler as Conductor

Mahler as Conductor: The New York Philharmonic Performances

120

*Nov. 29 , 190 8 Carnegie Hall SCHUMANN Symphony No. 1

BEETHOVEN "Coriolan" Overture SMETANA The Bartered Bride: Overture WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act 1

*Dec. 8, 190 8 Carnegie Hall Laura L. Combs, soprano Gertrude Stein Bailey, alto Oratorio Society MAHLER Symphony No. 2

*Dec. 13 , 1908 Carnegie Hall BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 7

WAGNER "Faust" Overture WEBER Oberon: Overture

Mar. 3 1 , 1909 Carnegie Hall SCHUMANN "Manfred" Overture BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 7

WAGNER Siegfried Idyll WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture

Apr. 6, 1909 Carnegie Hall Corinne Rider-Kelsey, soprano Janet Spencer, contralto Daniel Beddoe, tenor Herbert Watrous, bass Bach Choir of Montclair BEETHOVEN "Egmont" Overture BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 9

Nov. 4, 5, 1909 Carnegie Hall

* Symphony Society Orchestra

BEETHOVEN Overture, "The Consecration of the House"

BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 3

LISZT Mazeppa

R . STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche

Nov. 10 , 1909 Carnegie Hall Corinne Rider-Kelsey, soprano Theodore Spiering, violin BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra H A N D E L Flavio: "Quanto dolci" BACH Violin Concerto in E major R A M E A U Dardanus: Rigaudon from Suite No. 2 GRÉTRY Céphale et Procris: Recitative and Aria HAYDN Symphony No. 104

Nov. 19 , 1909 Carnegie Hall BEETHOVEN Fidelio: Overture BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 2

BEETHOVEN Leonore: Overture No. 1 BEETHOVEN Leonore: Overture No. 2 BEETHOVEN Leonore: Overture No. 3

Nov. 2 1 , 1909 Carnegie Hall Charles Gilibert, baritone BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 3

HANDEL Xerxes: "Ombra mai fu" BIZET La Jolie Fille de Perth: Aria MASSENET Le Jongleur de Notre Dame:

Legende de la sauge

WAGNER Götterdämmerung: Siegfried's Funeral Music

WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Nov. 25 , 26 , 1909 Carnegie Hall Teresa Carreño, piano BRAHMS Symphony No. 3

BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra WEBER Konzertstück in F minor for Piano DUKAS The Sorcerers Apprentice

Dec. 3, 1909 Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Maud Powell, violin BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 5

BEETHOVEN Leonore: Overture No. 3 MENDELSSOHN Concerto in E minor for Violin

Op. 64

WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Dec. 8, 1909 Carnegie Hall Bella Alten, soprano MOZART Symphony No. 41

HAYDN The Creation: "On Mighty Pens" MOZART The Marriage of Figaro: "Deh vieni

non tardar" BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 5

Dec. 12, 1909 Carnegie Hall Yolande Mérö, piano

BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 5 LISZT Piano Concerto No. 2 R. STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche DVOŘÁK Scherzo Capriccioso

D e c . 1 6 , 1 7 , 1 9 0 9

Carnegie Hall SCHUBERT Symphony No. 8 BEETHOVEN "Coriolan" Overture MAHLER Symphony No. 1

D e c . 2 9 , 1 9 0 9

Carnegie Hall Maud Powell, violin SCHUBERT Symphony No. 8 MENDELSSOHN Violin Concerto in E minor SCHUMANN Symphony No. 4

D e c . 3 1 , 1 9 0 9

Carnegie Hall Maud Powell, violin BEETHOVEN "Egmont" Overture, BEETHOVEN "Coriolan" Overture, BEETHOVEN Violin Concerto in D major BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 4

J a n . 6, 7 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall Ferruccio Busoni, piano BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique SCHUBERT-LISZT "Wanderer" Fantasy WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

J a n . 8 , 1 9 1 0

Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Gustav Mahler, harpsichord Ferruccio Busoni, piano BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra SCHUBERT-LISZT "Wanderer" Fantasy WAGNER Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and

"Liebestod" R.STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche

J a n . 1 4 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 6 Intermission BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 5

J a n . 1 6 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall Sergei Rachmaninoff, piano Gustav Mahler, harpsichord BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra RACHMANINOFF Piano Concerto No. 3 WAGNER Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and

"Liebestod" SMETANA The Bartered Bride: Overture

J a n . 1 7 , 1 9 1 0

Philadelphia, PA BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 5 SMETANA The Bartered Bride: Overture R.STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Tilly Koenen, contralto SCHUMANN Symphony No. 4 BEETHOVEN "Ah, Perfido" R. STRAUSS Don Juan R. STRAUSS "Hymnus" M. FIEDLER "The Tambourine Player" WOLF Song, "Er ist's" with orchestra

accompaniment WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture (Dresden version)

F e b . 1 3 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall Pasquale Amato, baritone WAGNER "Kaiser-Marsch" WAGNER "Faust" Overture WAGNER Siegfried Idyll WAGNER Die Walküre: Wotans Farewell and

Magic Fire Scene WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I WAGNER Die Meistersinger: "Wahn! Wahn!" WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture (Dresden version)

F e b . 1 7 , 1 8 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall MacDowell Chorus TCHAIKOVSKY Romeo and Juliet, Overture-Fantasy DEBUSSY Nocturnes WAGNER "Faust" Overture WAGNER Siegfried Idyll BERLIOZ "Roman Carnival" Overture

122 123

Jan. 2 0 , 2 1 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall TCAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 6

WAGNER Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and " Liebestod"

SMETANA The Bartered Bride: Overture

Jan. 2 6 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall J a n . 2 8 , 1 9 1 0

Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Ludwig Wüllner, baritone BRAHMS Symphony No. 3 MAHLER Kindertotenlieder DVOŘÁK Overture, "Amid Nature" W E I N G A R T N E R Songs, "Erdriese" and

" Letzter Tanz" WOLF Song, "Anakreons Grab" with orchestra

accompaniment WOLF Song, "Der Rattenfänger" S M E T A NA The Bartered Bride: Overture

Jan. 3 0 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall Paolo Gallico, piano GRIEG Sigurd Jorsalfar: Triumphal March BEETHOVEN "Coriolan" Overture SCHUMANN Piano Concerto in A minor BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique

Feb. 3 , 4 , 1 9 1 0

Carnegie Hall Feb. 1 1 , 1 9 1 0

Feb. 23, 1910 New Haven, CT Olga Samaroff, piano BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra GRIEG Piano Concerto in A minor R. STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche

Feb. 24, 1910 Springfield, MA Corinne Rider-Kelsey, soprano BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra HANDEL Flavio: Aria, "Quanto dolci" MOZART The Marriage of Figaro: Aria,

"Voi che sapete" R. STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Feb. 25, 1910 Providence, RI Theodore Spiering, violin BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique VIEUXTEMPS Violin Concerto No. 5 R. STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Feb. 26, 1910 Boston, MA Arthur Hyde, organ BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra BEETHOVEN Leonore, Overture No. 3

R. STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche

Mar. 2, 1910 Carnegie Hall Carl Jörn, tenor WAGNER Der fliegende Holländer: Overture WAGNER Lohengrin: Prelude Act I WAGNER Parsifal: Prelude to Act I WAGNER Die Walküre: Siegmund's Love Song WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prize Song WAGNER Götterdämmerung: Siegfried's

Funeral Music LISZT Les Préludes LISZT Mazeppa

Mar. 4, 1910 Carnegie Hall Olga Samaroff, piano BEETHOVEN Overture, "Namensfeier" BEETHOVEN Piano Concerto No. 4 BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 7

Mar. 6, 1910 Carnegie Hall Josef Lhevinne, piano TCHAIKOVSKY Romeo and Juliet, Overture-Fantasy TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 6

TCHAIKOVSKY Piano Concerto No. 1 TCHAIKOVSKY "1812" Overture

Mar. 10, 11, 1910 Carnegie Hall Fritz Kreisler, violin 124

BUSONI Turandot, Op. 41: Suite BRAHMS Violin Concerto in D major DEBUSSY Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune R. STRAUSS Tod und Verklärung

Mar. 14, 1910 Philadelphia, PA Fritz Kreisler, violin BERLIOZ Symphonie fantastique B E E T H O V E N Violin Concerto in D major WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture (Dresden version)

Mar. 18, 1910 Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Corinne Rider-Kelsey, soprano WAGNER Der fliegende Holländer: Overture WAGNER "Faust" Overture WAGNER Siegfried Idyll WAGNER Tannhäuser: "Dich, teure Halle" WAGNER Lohengrin: Prelude to Act I WAGNER "Wesendonk-Lieder" (orchestrated by

Felix Mottl) WAGNER "Kaiser-Marsch"

Mar. 27, 1910 Carnegie Hall Carl Jörn, tenor Edna Showalter, soprano Janet Spencer, contralto Theodore Spiering, violin MacDowell Chorus

W A G N E R Der fliegende Holländer: Overture W A G N E R Die Meistersinger: Prize Song

WAGNER Rienzi: "The Messengers of Peace" BRAHMS Gesang aus Fingal SCHUBERT "Serenade" VlEUXTEMPS Violin Concerto No. 5 BEETHOVEN Leonore: Overture No. 3 SMETANA The Bartered Bride: ["Es muss gelingen"] LlSZT Les Préludes

Mar. 30, 1910 Carnegie Hall PFITZNER Christelflein: Overture BRUCKNER Symphony No. 4

R. STRAUSS Guntram: Two Preludes (from Act I and Act II)

R. STRAUSS Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche

Apr. 1, 2, 1910 Carnegie Hall Corinne Rider-Kelsey, soprano Viola Waterhouse, soprano Janet Spencer, contralto Dan Beddoe, tenor Paul DuFault, tenor Herbert Watrous, bass Ernest Hutcheson, piano Bach Choir of Montclair BEETHOVEN Fantasia in C minor for Piano,

Chorus, and Orchestra BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 9

Nov. 1, 4, 1910 Carnegie Hall Nov. 6, 1910 125

Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Gustav Mahler, harpsichord BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra SCHUBERT Symphony No. 9 MOZART Idomeneo: Ballet Music MOZART German Dances R. STRAUSS Also sprach Zarathustra

Nov. 13, 1910 Carnegie Hall WEBER Der Freischütz: Overture TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 5 Intermission BERLIOZ La Damnation de Faust, Op. 24 : Menuet

de Follets, Dance of the Sylphs, Rakoczy March LISZT Mephisto Waltz No. 1

Nov. 15, 18, 1910 Carnegie Hall Josef Hofmann, piano SCHUMANN "Manfred" Overture DEBUSSY Images pour orchestra: Rondes de

Printemps, No. 3 SAINT-SAENS Piano Concerto No. 4 Intermission BRAHMS Symphony No. 1

Nov. 20, 1910 Brooklyn Academy of Music Alma Gluck, soprano SCHUMANN "Manfred" Overture BRAHMS Symphony No. 1

126 SMETANA Bohemian "Cradle Song" from

"Hubicka" (arr. Schindler) MAHLER "Ging Heut' Morgen übers Feld" MAHLER "Rheinlegendchen"

DVOŘÁK "Carnival" Overture SMETANA "The Moldau"

Nov. 22, 25, 1910 Carnegie Hall Alma Gluck, soprano CHERUBINI Anacréon: Overture SCHUMANN Symphony No. 2 Intermission SMETANA Bohemian "Cradle Song" from

"Hubicka"(arr. Schindler) MAHLER "Ging heut' Morgen übers Feld" MAHLER "Rheinlegendchen"

DVOŘÁK "Carnival" Overture SMETANA "The Moldau"

Nov. 27, 1910 Carnegie Hall Xaver Scharwenka, piano RIMSKY-KORSAKOV Scheherazade, Op. 35 SCHARWENKA Piano Concerto No. 4 CHABRIER España

Nov. 29, Dec. 2, 1910 Carnegie Hall Francis Macmillen, violin ELGAR Variations on an Original Theme

("Enigma") GOLDMARK Violin Concerto in A minor MOZART Symphony No. 40

MENDELSSOHN Midsummer Night's Dream: Ouverture

Dec. 5, 1910 Pittsburgh, PA Gustav Mahler, harpsichord BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 6 Intermission WAGNER Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and

" Liebestod" WAGNER Siegfried Idyll WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Dec. 6, 1910 Cleveland, OH, Grays Armory [Program of Dec. 5]

Dec. 7, 1910 Buffalo, NY, Convention Hall [ Program of Dec. 5]

Dec. 8, 1910 Rochester, NY, Convention Hall [Program of Dec. 5]

Dec. 9, 1910 Syracuse, NY, Wieting Opera House [ Program of Dec. 5]

Dec. 10, 1910 Utica, NY, The Majestic Theatre [ Program of Dec. 5]

Dec. 13, 16, 1910 Carnegie Hall Xaver Scharwenka, piano BEETHOVEN "King Stephen" Overture BEETHOVEN "Coriolan" Overture BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 8 BEETHOVEN Piano Concerto No. 5 BEETHOVEN Leonore: Overture No. 3

Dec. 18, 1910 Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Dec. 27, 30, 1910 Carnegie Hall Edouard Dethier, violin TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 2 TCHAIKOVSKY Violin Concerto in D major TCHAIKOVSKY Suite No. 1 in D minor

Jan. 1, 1911 Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY Johanna Gadski, soprano WAGNER Rienzi: Overture WAGNER Lohengrin: Prelude to Act I WAGNER Lohengrin: "Einsam in trüben Tagen" WAGNER Tannhäuser: "Dich, teure Halle" WAGNER Götterdämmerung: Immolation Scene WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture

Jan. 3, 6, 1911 Carnegie Hall Jan. 8, 1911 Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY 127

Edmond Clement, tenor

MacDowell Chorus

ENESCO Suite No. 1 for Orchestra

LALO Le Roi d'Ys: Aubade

MASSENET Le Mage: Air de Zarastra

MASSENET Manon: Le Rêve de des Grieux

DEBUSSY Images pour orchestra: Ibéria

Intermission

BIZET L'Arlésienne: Suite No. 1

CHABRIER Ode à la Musique

CHABRIER España

Jan. 1 0 , 1 3 , 1 9 1 1

Carnegie Hall

Johanna Gadski, soprano

W A G N E R "Faust" Overture

W A G N E R Wesendonk-Lieder (orchestrated by

Felix Mott l)

W A G N E R Der fl iegende Holländer: Overture

W A G N E R Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and

"Liebestod"

W A G N E R Siegfried Idyll

W A G N E R Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Jan. 1 5 , 1 9 1 1

Carnegie Hall

Jan. 2 9 , 1 9 1 1

Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY

Johanna Gadski, soprano

W A G N E R Rienzi: Overture

W A G N E R Lohengrin: Prelude to Act I

W A G N E R Lohengrin: Elsa's Dream

128 W A G N E R Tannhäuser: "Dich, teure Halle"

WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture (Dresden version)

W A G N E R Götterdämmerung: Siegfried's

Funeral Music

W A G N E R Götterdämmerung: Brünnhilde's

Immolation

Jan. 1 7 , 2 0 , 1 9 1 1

Carnegie Hall

Bella Alten, soprano

PFITZNER Käthchen von Heilbronn: Overture

M A H L E R Symphony No. 4

R. STRAUSS Ein Heldenleben

Jan. 2 2 , 1 9 1 1

Carnegie Hall

GOLDMARK Overture, "In the Spring"

TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 6

WEBER-WEINGARTNER "Invitation to the Dance"

LISZT Tasso

Jan. 2 4 , 1 9 1 1

Washington, DC

Johanna Gadski, soprano

W A G N E R Der fliegende Holländer: Overture

W A G N E R Lohengrin: Prelude to Act I

WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture (Dresden version)

W A G N E R Tannhäuser: "Dich, teure Halle"

W A G N E R Lohengrin: "Elsas Dream"

W A G N E R Siegfried Idyll

W A G N E R Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and

"Liebestod"

W A G N E R Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Jan. 2 7 , 1 9 1 1

C a r n e g i e Hall

Johanna Gadski, soprano

WAGNER Der fliegende Holländer: Overture

WAGNER Tannhäuser: Overture and Venusberg

Music (Paris Version)

WAGNER Tannhäuser: "Dich, teure Halle"

WAGNER Tannhäuser: Prayer

WAGNER Wesendonk Song No. 5, "Träume"

(arr. Wagner)

WAGNER Parsifal: Prelude to Act I and

Glorification (arr. Seidl)

WAGNER Tristan und Isolde: Prelude and

" Liebestod"

WAGNER Die Walküre: Ride of the Valkyries

WAGNER Die Walküre: Wotan's Farewell and

Magic Fire Scene

Jan. 3 1 , Feb. 3 , 1 9 1 1

C a r n e g i e Hall

MENDELSSOHN Overture, "Zum Märchen von

der schönen Melusine"

SCHUMANN Symphony No. 3

Intermission

WAGNER Lohengrin: Prelude to Act I

BIZET Suite No. 3, "Roma"

Feb. 5 , 1 9 1 1

C a r n e g i e Hall

Ernest Hutcheson, piano

LALO Le Roi d'Ys: Overture

SCHUBERT Symphony No. 8

M A C D O W E L L Concerto No. 2 in D minor for

Piano and Orchestra, Op. 23

Intermission

W A G N E R Der fliegende Holländer: Overture

W A G N E R Siegfried: Forest Murmurs

("Waldweben")

W A G N E R Die Meistersinger: Prelude to Act I

Feb. 7 , 1 0 , 1 9 1 1

Carnegie Hall

David Bispham, baritone

BERLIOZ Romeo et Juliette, Op. 17: Romeo

Alone, Capulet's Festival, Love Scene, Queen

Mab Scherzo

W A G N E R Die Meistersinger: Introduction to

Act III

W A G N E R Die Meistersinger: Monologue of

Hans Sachs

R. STRAUSS "Pilgers Morgenlied"

Intermission

BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 7

Feb. 1 2 , 1 9 1 1

Brooklyn Academy of Music, NY

David Bispham, baritone

W E B E R Oberon: Overture

TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 6

Intermission

WAGNER Die Meistersinger: Introduction to

Act III

W A G N E R Die Meistersinger: Finale and Sach's

Address

R. STRAUSS "Pilgers Morgenlied"

LlSZT Les Préludes

129

Gustav Mahler in

1910, a typical

New Yorker. 131

Feb. 14, 17, 1911 Carnegie Hall Louise Kirkby Lunn, contralto Frank L. Sealy, organ CHADWICK Dramatic Overture, "Melpomene" STANFORD Symphony, F minor ELGAR Sea Pictures Intermission

LOEFFLER "La Villanelle du Diable" MACDOWELL "The Saracens" MACDOWELL "Die schöne Alda" HADLEY "The Culprit Fay"

Feb. 15, 1911 New Haven, CT, Wookey Hall Gustav Mahler, harpsichord BACH-MAHLER Suite for Orchestra BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 6 Intermission WEBER-WEINGARTNER "Invitation to the Dance" LlSZT Les Préludes

Feb. 16, 1911 Hartford, CT[Program of Feb. 15]

Feb. 1 9 , 1 9 1 1 Carnegie Hall Fredric Fradkin, violin WEBER Oberon: Overture BEETHOVEN Symphony No. 7Intermission MENDELSSOHN Violin Concerto in E minorLISZT Les Préludes

Feb. 21, 1911 Carnegie Hall Ernesto Consolo, piano SINIGAGLIA Le baruffe Chiozzotte: OvertureMENDELSSOHN Symphony No. 4Intermission MARTUCCI Piano Concerto in B-flat majorBUSONI Berceuse élégiaque BOSSI Intermezzi Goldoniani

Note: Mahler conducted most of his concerts without an intermission, a new concert experience for New

York audiences. Some of his programs did, however, include an intermission, and when we found a refer-

ence to that fact we included it in our list. B.H 130

What the Critics Wrote 1909-1911

Those who busy themselves with comparisons doubtless found many

points of differences in Mr. Mahler's "readings" of these familiar works.

But let that pass. Suffice it to say that he held the listeners' interest

throughout, had his men completely under control, and reared huge

climaxes of tone that left their thrills. The orchestra played excellently. Contrasts were

numerous and finely wrought, and the volume of sound was satisfying. Of course it is not

yet the best orchestra in the world. But then this is only the beginning, and the amount

of promise indicated by last night's performance was enough to satisfy even the army of

cavilers who sit, listen, and look wise at symphony concerts. —Unsigned

It was to a large extent a new orchestra which occupied the platform,

there was a conductor who was all but new to local concert room

. . . and in the music and its performance there were signs of a new

spirit. . . . In the splendid audience there were new faces, and it was

noticeable that where they were most numerous the applause was most vociferous and

the least discriminating; so that it was made plain to veteran observers of musical affairs

that the change had not wholly destroyed the old spirit of wise conservatism and good

taste which has distinguished the Philharmonic concerts for two generations. . . . The

pieces loosened a storm of enthusiasm, and Mr. Mahler was made to feel that his first

battle had ended in victory. Henry E. Krehbiel

T h e general impression derived from the concert last evening, even

before the first number was finished, was that the orchestra was

already something very different from what it has been for long years;

in many respects better. . . . The performance of . . . [Till Eulenspiegel]

was an extraordinary one. Never has there been a more clear and brilliant setting forth

of its complications. . . . T h e audience at this concert was large, but did not quite fill the

hall. It was enthusiastic, and gave Mr. Mahler a very cordial greeting and applause that

he waved over to the members of the orchestra. —Richard Aldrich

Last night the music was given with a brilliancy and beauty which

were scarcely hinted at before. It is not unfamiliar music to local lovers

of the orchestra, but it sounded almost new last night, when the band

developed a muscularity and homogeneity of tone that were wanting

at the earlier meetings, and a joyous elasticity of utterance which was ravishing, The

improvement was not confined to this performance, however. Nothing finer than the

finale of Brahms's third symphony under Mr. Mahler's direction has been heard in our

concert rooms for years. —Henry E. Krehbiel 133 132

The Brahms symphony was most sympathetic, yet an individual one.

. . . It was pulsating with life and energy in the first and last

movements. The poetical content of the andante, taken at a pace

slightly faster than it often is, and the lyrical character of the third

movement were finely presented. The performance was notable for its freedom in the

matter of tempo modification and of nuance and, likewise, for the richness and

changing beauty of its orchestral coloring. —Richard Aldrich

The Till Eulenspiegel enabled the audience to realize what strides the

orchestra has made toward technical perfection in its two months

under Mr. Mahler's direction, for the Strauss tour de force was on the

Philharmonic's first program this season. It was an incomparably

better achievement yesterday in every way and was heartily applauded. . . . A large

audience brought Mr. Mahler back to the stage many times. —Unsigned

[Mahler's] performance of Beethoven's fifth symphony was . . . .

dramatically colored one with many of the highest lights and shadows

Mr. Mahler, like many modern conductors who have followed in

Wagner's footsteps, has retouched Beethoven's orchestration. It is a

matter that admits of many questionings. —Richard Aldrich

134

T h e audience . . . recognizing in the work [Mahler's Symphony

No. 1] a very radical departure from its traditions, received it with

what might be described as courteous applause, much dubious

shaking of heads and no small amount of grumblings. Why this

should have been the case will better be understood when time and patience permit

of a dispassionate discussion of the composition, which, let it be confessed, is not the

case now. It belongs to the record of incidents, however, to say that for the first time

in a generation at least the society's official program contained neither description not

analysis of the composition. —Henry E. Krehbiel

The most interesting feature was the performance of the Conductor's

Symphony N o . 1, in D major, for the first time in this city. . . . The

audience received it with approval last night, but without any great

demonstration of enthusiasm. This was due mainly to the drawing

out of the last movement far beyond its natural conclusion, Ended ten minutes sooner

in a great climax of triumphal clamor, bizarre but thrilling, the hearers would have been

aroused to vigorous demonstrations, but iteration and anti-climax deadened the effect

before the end was reached. The earlier movements were beautiful, but in the first the

sweetness was long drawn out. The second waltz movement, dainty and delicate,

received the most applause. No analysis of the symphony was given in the programs,

but more than one in the audience thought it might be called scenes from the life of a

soldier, ending in a blaze of triumph. —Unsigned

135

It may bring consolation to Gustav Mahler, if he feels at all sensitive

about the treatment his Symphony in D major received in New York,

to consider that the works of his great preceptor, Anton Bruckner

have been subjected to attacks far less considerate. It may interest him

to know that several of the critical persons who scorn his own talents, as manifested in

his first symphonic effort, have not yet learned to appreciate the genius of Liszt, were

always blind to the merits of Richard Strauss, have failed to observe the originality and

artistic significance of Claude Debussy, have shown, indeed, extraordinary hostility in

the introduction of anything new that their minds did not encompass immediately. To

be sure such considerations in no way can prove the contention that Mahler's first

symphony is a great work. But surely the opinion of men who almost consistently have

fought against the admission of new works is somewhat weakened in this case if one

surveys the critical past. . . . But surely the Philharmonic Society's present conductor

deserves serious critical treatment both as a creator of music and an interpreter. You may

dislike his music or you may admire it; you may be in sympathy with his readings of

masterpieces or you may take exception to them. Under any circumstances, however

you cannot cast the work of Mahler aside unnoticed or laugh it off as a joke. Everywhere,

it would seem, Gustav Mahler has aroused controversy, and the enemies he has made are

not a few. The feeling for or against this remarkable man has never been lukewarm

however. His admirers are enthusiastic to the point of fanaticism, his enemies extremely

bitter. In Vienna, where the best years of his life were devoted to music, he had to beat

the attacks of a hostile band that went far beyond the limits of ordinary decorum, trying

136 to inflame popular feeling by appeals to religious and racial prejudices. —Max Smith

Mr. Mahler read [Beethoven's Seventh Symphony] with real eloquence,

emphasizing its rhythmical characteristics, but not overemphasizing

them, and indulging in dynamic extravagance only in the holding

notes of the trumpet in the trio of the scherzo. T h e programs of the

society are growing more varied and interesting as the season approaches its end.

— Henry E. Krehbiel

T h e Philharmonic is just closing its first season under the

conductorship of Mr. Gustav Mahler. . . . T h e society has given more

concerts than ever before, and for the first time in its career it went on

tour, visiting Boston and other large cities in the East. . . . Bruckner's

"Romantic" symphony, a work that has been heard here several times in the last ten years

without making much of an impression, was played with smoothness if with no

brilliancy. T h e concert ended with a repetition of Mr. Strauss' Orchestral fantasia, Till

Eulenspiegel, of which the Philharmonic has given half a dozen performances this season.

It was made the occasion for some of the most brilliant and effective playing offered by

the veteran society this season. It roused the audience as nothing else had done, and after

it Mr. Mahler was several times recalled to the stage. —Unsigned

Last night's performance showed [Bruckner's Fourth] to be

considerably more worth rehearing than the symphonies of Bruckner

that have been played here in recent years. . . . It is, in fact, a work that

can be listened to with true pleasure, without weariness to the flesh. 137

Some of this impression no doubt was due to the truly superb interpretation which the

symphony received at the hands of Mr. Mahler—a performance that proclaimed even

more unmistakably than they have been proclaimed before the mastery and authority of

the conductor. It showed his insight and entire sympathy with Bruckner's music, of

which he is a chief exponent, and, as well, the fine skill of the orchestra, which is steadily

gaining lor itself the right to be called a virtuoso organization. T h e freedom, breadth,

and brilliancy of last night's performance, its many-sided eloquence, did much to carry

conviction for the music. —Richard Aldrich

All of the music, except the songs, looked familiar on the program,

though the symphony [Schumann's Second], which ought to have

been the most familiar, inasmuch as it has figured in the

Philharmonic's schemes for nearly fifty-seven years, disclosed some

unwonted features due to the revision which it has received at the hands of Mr. Mahler.

Nearly all of the symphonies, symphonic poems, and overtures which figure in the

society's programs nowadays should be accepted as the works of the composers plus

emendations, alterations, and additions made by Mr. Mahler. —Henry E. Kriehbiel

There were a few rearrangements of Mi. Mahler's own devising in the

orchestration; but from that nobody is safe, especially a composer who

has to bear a reputation for unskillfulness in scoring. The performance

of the symphony was truly impressive. —Richard Aldrich

138

Mr. Mahler has reason to be proud of the reception given to his

fourth symphony. After the first movement he was called out four

t imes, and similar demons t ra t ions followed after the other

divisions. —Henry T. Finck

The Fourth Symphony of Mahler has been heard here before, when

presented by Walter Damrosch several years ago. . . . In the three

movements preceding the setting of this song the composer sets forth

certain musical ideas without permitting the publication of any

descriptive program. These movements seem to proceed largely in simple folk dance

movements, with themes of primitive structure, with occasional touches of not very

modern modernity, and few rather obtrusive outbursts, which are not the outcome of any

logically developed climax. What, in all sincerity, can be said of this symphony? What can

be said of musical qualities where none can be detected, and why should one go into

detail concerning the orchestral mask, when there is nothing behind it? With the most

sincere search it seems impossible to find anything in his symphony, except a series of

unrelated orchestral effects, fairly clever as far as knowledge of the instruments goes, but

wholly superficial, and which have nothing whatsoever to offer the music-hungry spirit.

. . . The first notes of Ein Heldenleben, following the symphony, fell like drops of water

upon the thirsting desert. —Arthur Farwell

139

Mahler's Marked Scores in the New York Philharmonic Archives

by PAUL BANKS

In 1989, the British musicologist Paul Banks visited the New York Philharmonic

Archives and Orchestra Library in connection with his research on the printed

sources of Mahler's compositions. He returned to New York in March 1998 for the

purpose of examining scores in the Philharmonic Archives that Gustav Mahler

might have used in his performances with the Orchestra. To prepare for his visit,

Barbara Haws and Erik Ryding, equipped with a comprehensive list of the works

Mahler conducted with the New York Philharmonic, combed through numerous

early scores in the Orchestra Library. They consulted Library records and catalogues

from the turn of the century, evaluated early editions to determine their dates, and

returned with 41 marked scores and several sets of marked parts for Paul Banks to

examine. Hunting for traces of Mahler's hand, Banks scrutinized the scores page

by page for three days, being joined on one afternoon by the American Mahler

140 scholar Edward Reilly. The following essay reflects their findings.

The rich collections of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra Library and

Archives contain many treasures, including fascinating but little-known

documentation of one of the most interesting periods of Mahler's career: his

two years (1909-11) as the artistic head of the Orchestra. This was the first

time in his career when he was not working regularly in any opera house (a breed of musical

institution he loved and loathed), had minimal administrative duties, and was responsible

for an extended season of orchestral concerts. Having traveled thousands of miles from

Vienna, the city where he had received his musical education and formed his creative and

re-creative personality, he had moved out of an extraordinarily intense but self-regarding

cultural life into N e w York's new, vibrant, and refreshing climate.

T h e impact on Mahler's concert repertoire was not a total transformation, but was

striking nevertheless. Beethoven and Wagner had always been the foundation on which his

concert programming was built, with the addition of a limited number of works by the

major figures of mid-19th-century European music. Tchaikovsky, Smetana, and Dvořák

represented Eastern European music, but the majority of the composers worked within the

Austro-German tradition. Moreover, until his appointment to the New York Philharmonic,

Mahler's concert repertoire, like his opera repertoire during his 10 years as Director of the

Vienna Court Opera, was unremarkable for its inclusion of new works. From the autumn

of 1909 this began to change. T h e list of composers Mahler now added to his repertoire

showed how much wider he was casting his net, including as it did music from France

(Chabrier, Debussy, Dukas, Massenet, Saint-Saëns), England (Elgar), Ireland (Stanford),

Italy (Bossi, Busoni, Cherubini, Sinigaglia), Romania (Enesco), Russia (Rachmaninoff, 141

Above: Opening measures of Bach's Orchestral Suite No. 2, marked by Mahler for his

arrangement commonly known as the Bach-Mahler Suite for Orchestra.

Left: A cornucopia of scores and parts marked by Mahler: (clockwise from upper left

corner) Schubert's "Unfinished" Symphony, Schumann's "Manfred" Overture, Liszt's

Mazeppa, and Dvořák's Scherzo Capriccioso. 143

Rimsky-Korsakov), and U S A (Chadwick, Hadley, Loeffler, MacDowell) . Furthermore, his

repertoire was expanding in its historical range, with more 18th-century music and a far

greater interest in contemporary music.

This much of the story can be gleaned from the programs in the Philharmonic's

Archives, but turning to the documents from the Orchestra Library leads to new insights. A

working orchestral library is quite unlike a reference library or archive: Its contents are not

protected at every turn from the depredations of everyday life, held in as unchanging a form

as possible. T h e main task of an orchestral library is to supply the scores and parts used and

abused by the conductor and players in rehearsals and performances. For standard repertoire

works, conductors often buy and travel with their own scores (and sometimes sets of parts),

but this is not necessarily the case for new or unusual works, for which conductors would

usually expect to use copies owned or hired by the orchestra's library, marking them as

necessary. Occasionally a conductor's personal score may inadvertently become part of an

orchestra's library, or (perhaps even more commonly) the orchestra's own scores find their

way into conductor's collections. T h e orchestral parts are subjected to a variety of wear and

tear and have to be cleaned up and repaired periodically, until the ravages of time take their

toll, remedial treatment becomes uneconomic, and the well-loved pages ate retired, usually

to the archives. Battered, often literally falling apart (the paper used from about 1890 to

1950 is often of very poor quality), the scores and parts can contain annotations by several

generations of conductors and orchestral musicians: trying to discern who wrote what can

be like making sense of geological strata. But the effort can be worthwhile: T h e various

notes, scribbles, and doodles can offer us insights into many aspects of music-making

144 decades ago.

T h e practice of marking scores and parts is relatively recent. It was almost unknown

before the mid-19th century, reflecting, perhaps, both a respect for valuable and rare copies,

and the nature of both rehearsal and performance. But by the early 20th century, the

conductor and his players would be armed with pencils and crayons in a variety of colors,

and would be ready to use them. Greater consistency of ensemble and technique was

expected of orchestras, and after Wagner and Hans von Bülow conductors were viewed

increasingly as more than mere leaders of the band but as interpretative artists in their own

right. Such developments encouraged more intense rehearsal, but the resulting annotations

are often very prosaic in nature: Many simply highlight instructions already in the score or

part, such as changes of key signature, the need to change instruments (particularly in wind

parts), or a change of tempo; others deal with particular technical problems, notably the

lingering and bowing of string parts. (As both can be changed at the whim of either the

conductor or the concertmaster, and require practice by the players, the string parts are

usually much more heavily marked than those for wind, brass, and percussion, and have to

be replaced more frequently.)

Not all the markings are directly concerned with the performance: Players can use parts

for making sketches (the conductor is a common subject), jotting down reminders, sending

messages to colleagues, noting names and addresses, and recording comments on the piece.

One recurring theme in parts for Mahler's symphonies (though it's not that common in the

New York Philharmonic sets) is their sheer length, the end of the First provoking an

apparently impatient (or perhaps just exhausted) "Amen" from a New York double bassist.

The need to catch the last tram to Mödling or train to Brooklyn is a perennial concern. But

some of these seemingly innocuous notes are useful to us. Occasionally players date their parts 145

Above: A page from the Orchestra Library catalogue noting the final demise of the

Philharmonic's Bruckner Fourth parts.

Right: A fragile page from the Finale of Bruckner's Symphony No. 4 ("Romantic") shows

revisions in Mahler's hand. 146

(sometimes with the conductor's name)—thus offering the possibility that we might be able

to associate some or all of the musical annotations to a particular performance—and add the

timing of the performance. So we know that Josef Stransky's performance of Mahler's First on

December 3 1 , 1920, lasted 54 1/2 minutes and that Mahler's performances of Schumann's

Second and Brahms's Third Symphonies lasted 37 and 36 minutes, respectively. When

individual movements are timed, we can form a better (though never a very precise) sense of

the tempi adopted. Of course what remains unrecorded is Mahler's renowned sense of tempo

modification—rubato—that is so essential in breathing life and chatacter into a performance.

Interesting though the orchestral parts are, the scores used by Mahler are even more

fascinating—for what they do and don't show. Some annotations were neatly entered

probably while he was studying the work, while others were hurriedly scrawled on the page,

presumably during rehearsal. The most revealing are those which reflect Mahler's creative

engagement with a work. From this point of view the full score of his First Symphony is

one of the most important. Bearing Mahler's own stamp ("Gustav Mahler / Wien"), it is a

first edition, published by Weinberger in 1899, in which most of the composer's later

revisions have been entered, many in his hand. Apart from the addition of exposition

repeats in both the first and second movements (first introduced in the 1906 edition of the

study score), the overwhelming majority of the alterations concern refinements in the

orchestration of the work. Mahler conducted the work for the last time on December 16

and 17, 1909, with the Philharmonic, and clearly enjoyed returning to his first symphonic

essay—"I myself was pretty pleased with that youthful effort!" he wrote to Bruno Walter

Not all the New York "superiors" (Mahler's term for critics) were impressed— the

instrumentation is one of the least satisfactory elements of the work" according to The New 148

York Times. Crucially, though, the performances gave the composer an opportunity to

evaluate his latest revisions, and that experience was reflected in the second edition of the

full score, published in November 1910. T h e New York score is therefore an important

document, but it also epitomizes the problems presented by so many scores in orchestral

libraries: it has been used by at least three generations of conductors (represented by

Mahler, Bruno Walter, and Bernstein), and assigning authorship to the various annotators

is an intriguing and, in some cases, insoluble problem.

As is well known, Mahler was also willing to rework the music of other composers, and

one of the best (or most infamous) examples is Bruckner's Fourth Symphony (heard at

Carnegie Hall on Match 30, 1910). As we can see from the fragile copy of Mahler's

conducting score in the Archive—a late issue of the first edition published by A. J. Gutman

in 1889—his approach was radically interventionist. (One of the Orchestra's old catalogues

[see page 146] shows that Mahler took the orchestral parts back to Europe from whence they

never returned; the set is now in the Wiener Stadtbibliothek.) Throughout the Symphony

Mahler tinkers with scoring, dynamics, and articulation, striving constantly for textural

clarity. But in the last three movements he went much further, making substantial cuts, some

of which required adjustments to the music in order to create smooth links between sections.

In the Andante quasi allegretto, a typical, five-part ABA'B'A" structure, Mahler cut the third

and fourth sections, creating a simple ternary design. In the Scherzo he reshapes the overall

dynamic contours of the movement (giving a quiet, poetic ending to the first appearance of

the main section) and radically abbreviates the return of the Scherzo. Unsurprisingly, though,

it is the Finale that is most radically altered. Throughout his symphonic career Bruckner

worked to perfect a novel type of concluding movement, one that few of his young supporters 149

Above: Philharmonic librarian, Henry G. Boewig, indicated the changes made by Mahler on

this score of Beethoven's Symphony No. 7. Beneath Mr. Boewig's words appears Arturo

Toscanini's signed reference to the changes as being "unworthy of such a musician."

Someone anonymously later added "nomina stultorum sunt ubique locorum," which,

translated from the Latin, means: "the words of fools appear everywhere."

Right: Opening of the Finale to Beethoven's Seventh, with Mahler's doublings in red ink.

fully understood. Mahler's approach is to shorten both the exposition and recapitulation by

removing the third group of themes (which are thus never heard in his version), to eliminate

most of the development, and to omit the recapitulation of the first subject, and to pass

straight from the return of the second subject group to the coda. In fact there are precedents

for some of these alterations in the revisions Bruckner made to the Finale of his Third

Symphony in 1889 (changes which, paradoxically, Mahler tried to persuade the old man to

abandon), and the new concertmaster of the Philharmonic, Theodore Spiering, welcomed the

result: "Through a whole series of very skillfully worked-out cuts he relieved the work of its

jerky, periodic nature; and he achieved a logical unity which brought out the work's many

beauties to an unimaginable degree." Moreover Mahler's truncation of Bruckner's Fourth also

had the merit of brevity in a well-filled concert that also included an overture by Pfitzner, two

preludes from Strauss's opera Guntram and his symphonic poem Till Eulenspiegel.

Mahler's approach to Bruckner had aroused some opposition in Vienna, but this was

nothing compared with the hostility he faced for his readings and retouchings of Beethoven.

He was willing to rescore and alter dynamics whenever he felt such changes addressed

compromises forced on the composer by the technical limitations of the instruments at his

disposal or the problems created by modern performing conditions (much larger halls and

correspondingly bigger orchestras). Yet as Mahler made clear in a manifesto published in

1900, his aim was to address such issues without fundamentally altering Beethoven's sound

world, and he legitimately traced his approach back to that of Wagner. Mahler's retouchings

didn't always remain within such modest bounds—the use of stopped horns in the Scherzo

of the Fifth Symphony being a case in point—but many are discreet and helpful solutions

to persistent problems. As it happens, the score of the Seventh Symphony in the Archives

(which carries Toscanini's scornful annotation; see page 150) has relatively little in Mahler's

own hand, and is not the most radically retouched of his scores. T h e other irony of

Toscanini's response is that he too was willing to depart from Beethoven's text, often

following the practical and relatively uncontroversial approach of Weingartner, but

sometimes adopting (perhaps unwittingly) readings also employed by Mahler.

What is striking about Mahler's annotations is that they are primarily concerned with the

music, not with the problems of conducting it. In this respect his scores look quite different

from, say, those of his friend and great admirer, Willem Mengelberg, with their copious

reminders and aide-mémoires. In part this difference may be traced back to their difference

in age. When Mahler was studying at the Vienna Conservatory in the mid-1870s, there was

no course in conducting on offer: T h e only opportunity to stand before the student

orchestra seems to have been given to those (like Mahler) on the composition course, but it

is very unlikely that they were given any systematic training. Mahler probably had to learn

the craft by watching others, and by trial and error in a series of humble appointments at

the start of his career. If Mahler ever worried about the technique of conducting (and the

problems some players had with his beat suggest it did not keep him awake at night), it finds

no reflection in his scores, which record only his concern for the musical result he was

seeking.

This helps to explain the baldness of a number of the scores used by Mahler in New York,

but there is another factor. He was not over-impressed by the New York Philharmonic at the

start of his first season as its head and admitted to Bruno Walter, "I find it very dispiriting to

have to start all over again as a conductor. The only pleasure I get from it all is rehearsing a work

I haven't done before." Because of the very tight concert schedule, Mahler cannot have had 152 153

much opportunity to tinker with the works he added to his repertoire, and their scores remain

relatively untouched except for cuts in works he found too prolix (such as Stanford's Irish

Symphony, heard on February 14 and 17, 1911, and Enesco's First Suite, Op . 9, heard on

January 3, 6, and 8, 1911) and very limited adjustments to scoring (as in Loeffler's La Villanelle

du Diable, also heard on February 14 and 17, 1911). At his very last concert, on February 21,

1911, Mahler conducted one of the most important premieres of his career, Busoni's exquisite

Berceuse élégiaque. It is all but certain that the New York Philharmonic's score and parts of the

work are those used by Mahler: If so, they reveal that Mahler altered nothing in that delicate

masterpiece. Alas, The New York Times thought the work "gruesome," and even Busoni, a great

admirer of Mahler, admitted that the work didn't quite suit Mahler's personality. What he didn't

know was that his colleague was already terminally ill, and had conducted his swan song.

We can never really know what gave Mahler's conducting its greatness. In the absence of

recordings we have to rely on the piano rolls he made in 1905, reviews, and memories of

those who worked with him. He left no "school," and the diversity of approach to his music

shown by his friends and close associates such as Bruno Walter, Otto Klemperer, Oskar

Fried, and Willem Mengelberg offered no coherent performing tradition for his output. So,

mute though they are, the scores and parts Mahler used in New York speak to us particularly

eloquently, as tangible traces of a vanished art. •

Paul Banks taught at Goldsmith's College, London, before becoming Librarian at the Britten-

Pears Library in Aldeburgh; he has recently taken up a new appointment as Research

Development Fellow at the Royal College of Music, London. His research interests include Berlioz,

154 Mahler, Busoni, and Benjamin Britten.

Mahler's own score of his Symphony No. 1, with new articulation added by the composer in

red and with the revised tempo indication added by Bruno Walter in blue. 155

Catalogue of Mahler's Marked Scores and Partsin the Orchestra Library and Archives

Johann Sebastian Bach Overture for Orchestra, No. 2 in B minor Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, no date (Library No. 10a)

Ludwig van Beethoven Overture ("Namensfeier") Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, no date (Library No. 39)

Symphony No. 7 in A major Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, Series No. 1, no date (Library No. 11)

Anton Bruckner Symphony No. 4 in E-flat major ("Romantic") New York: G. Schirmer, 1890 (Library No. 135)

George Whitefield Chadwick Melpomene, Dramatic Overture Boston & Leipzig: Arthur P. Schmidt, 1891 (Library No. 160)*

Antonin Dvořák Scherzo Capriccioso Berlin: Bote & Bock, no date (Library No. 244)

Georges Enesco Suite for Orchestra, No. 1 in C major Paris: Enoch & Co., no date (Library No. 260+)

Franz Liszt Mazeppa Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, no date (Library No. 406)

Tasso: Lamento e Trionfo Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, no date (Library No. 405)*

Charles Martin Loeffler La Villanelle du Diable New York: G. Schirmer, 1905 (Library No. 433) *

Gustav Mahler Symphony No. 1 in D major Vienna: Josef Weinberger, [1899] (Library No. 440)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Idomeneo: Ballet Music Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, Series V, no date (Library No. 488 1/2)

Hans Pfìtzner Overture to Kleist's Käthchen von Heilbronn Berlin: Ries & Erler, 1905 (Library No. 489)

Franz Schubert Symphony No. 7 [now No. 9] in C major Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, Series 1, no date (Library No. 582)

Symphony [No. 8] in B minor ("Unfinished") Vienna: C. A. Spina, 1867 (Library No. 583)

Robert Schumann "Manfred" Overture Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, no date (Library No. 596; full score and several parts marked by Mahler)

Symphony No. 2 in C major, revised by Alfred Dörffel Leipzig: C. F. Peters, no date (Library No. 591a)

Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky Suite No. 1 in D minor Moscow: P. Jurgenson, no date (Library No. 728)*

Symphony No. 5 in E minor Hamburg: D. Rahter, no date (Library No. 719)*

Symphony No. 6 in B minor ("Pathétique") Leipzig: Robert Forbcrg, 1897 (Library No. 720)*

Richard Wagner A "Faust" Overture Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, [c. 1857] (Library No. 750)

Kaiser-Marsch Leipzig: C. F. Peters, no date (Library No. 784)*

Carl Maria von Weber Oberon: Overture Mainz: B. Schott's Söhne, no date (Library No. 802)

This is not a comprehensive catalogue of scores and parts; this is the result of our intensive investigation at this time. As the Orchestra Library and Archives contain more than 10,000 scores and parts, there is, obviously, more research to be done. In addition to continuing the work on Mahler, there is no comprehensive survey identifying the markings of Mengelberg, Walter, or Mitropoulos, to name a few. B.H.

*Markings minimal or doubtful. 157 156

Mahler After Mahler

War and Peace: The Mahler Version

b y ALAN RICH

It hit me a few weeks ago, as the "Resurrection" Symphony stormed its way through

the vastness of the Hollywood Bowl—music and space seemingly fashioned out of a

single grandiose impulse—that among the countless candidates for the tide of Most

Influential Musical Eminence of the Century, the name of Gustav Mahler deserves to

place high on the roster. Sure, the listmakers can offer impressive alternatives: Igor and Elvis,

Maria or Lenny. They can also argue that the Mahler Second, which set off these thoughts,

was actually composed in 1894. Never mind; this was the work (alongside, depending how

you count, its eight, nine, or nine-and-a-half companions) that cast an inescapable shadow

across the music-making and the musical thinking of this century. T h e struggles of Mahler

the composer (as distinguished from the far-less-challengeable t r iumphs of Mahler the

160 Mahler and Willem Mengelberg, with friends, on an outing in Zuidersee, 1906

conductor)—from hostile rejection to grudging acceptance to triumphant hysteria—is the

central saga of our time, the shaping force that altered for all time the nature of music. "My

time will yet come," he had once proclaimed, a battle cry enshrined on the Mahler Society's

Medal of Honor; these discs affirm the truth in his prophecy.

Some of us are old enough to remember, however, when these words rang hollow. Like

many other life's pleasures, Mahler's music was being rationed in wartime Boston during my

first concertgoing days: only the first movement of the Third Symphony at one concert; only

the last two movements of the Fourth at another. Both truncated events were led by the

Boston Symphony's splendid assistant conductor and concertmaster, Richard Burgin; it

would have been less likely for Serge Koussevitzky, with his strong Russian-French

identification, to play an active role in the Mahlerian struggles. (Yet it was Koussevitzky

who, in 1931, had given the first American performance of the Mahler Ninth — drastically

cut. Try as I might, I cannot fantasize what that performance must have sounded like.)

By the war's end I had moved to New York, where the Mahler presence at the

Philharmonic was being burnished by the advocacy of Artur Rodzinski, Bruno Walter, and

Dimitri Mitropoulos against the determined opposition of much of the musical press. Just

before Christmas 1945 I heard Bruno Walter's performance of the Ninth from a seat in the

Carnegie Hall stratosphere; what I remember most from that concert however, is that it

also included a Beethoven piano concerto (the Third, with Rudolf Firkusny) and, therefore,

must have run until nearly midnight. Two years later, also in December, I heard

Mitropoulos giving the American premiere (!) of the Sixth, but my memories there are

mostly of the rudeness of large numbers of clearly offended listeners pushing their way back

162 up the aisles; their mood was to be echoed in the New York Times's "weak, banal and

repetitious" the next morning.

Those few months—fall into winter, 1947-48—were an interesting time of Mahler

immersion in and around New York. Leonard Bernstein bedazzled his way onto the

Mahlerian stage: not at Carnegie with the Philharmonic, but a mere two blocks away at

the New York City Center with his New York City Symphony in a ragtag but lively

performance of the Second Symphony. It was Bernstein's first public Mahler, although as

Artur Rodzinski's assistant at the Philharmonic he had helped prepare that same work in

l943 (two weeks after his famous broadcast "debut") and actually conducted the offstage

brass and percussion in the finale. Shortly after the City Symphony performance,

Bernstein brought his Mahler Second to the Boston Symphony, and the rest, as they say,

is history.

My own Mahler epiphany came that January: an experience which, over 50 years plus

a few months, I have always been able to rerun on my internal Victrola (and now can

reconfirm, thanks to these discs): Das Lied von der Erde, with Walter conducting and as

soloists the Wagnerian tenor Set Svanholm and—most miraculous of all—Britain's

Kathleen Ferrier in her American debut. We already knew that voice of incredible royal-

purple splendor, that instinctive sense of phrase that seemingly made every line a message

to you and you alone. A friend one year had bought up dozens of copies of her disc of

Schubert lieder and sent them out as Christmas cards. By January 1948 I was working for

the late Dario Soria in his imported record business; his wife, Dorle Jarmel, was the

Philharmonic's publicist, and she got me into the concert and also to Ferrier's press

conference. "You don't have to call me a mezzo-soprano," said this ravishing, slender

woman with the melting eyes. "I'm a contralto, and I'm not ashamed to say it." I sit here 163

again, the conductor would be the redoutable Stokowski.)

The "famine" broke at decades end. Stransky himself rounded off the decade with a

performance of the First Symphony on New Year's Eve, 1920-21, but the bigger bang would

occur the next season with the arrival at the Philharmonic of Willem Mengelberg—who had

actually first guest-led the Philharmonic in 1905 and been praised then by Aldrich for his

"spirit of youth." Mengelberg and Mahler had first met in The Netherlands in 1902;

ironically—considering Mengelberg's ultimate disgrace in his native land for his support of

the Nazi occupiers during World War II—they immediately found common cause. In

nowhere more than Amsterdam, from then on until 1940, was Mahler's music so often

performed; in May 1920, Mengelberg led a Mahler festival including all nine symphonies.

(A surviving electrical recording from 1926 of the Adagietto from the Fifth Symphony, the

strings glistening and intense, with a layer of that technique of sliding between notes—

portamento—so loved at the time, provides some inkling of what those performances must

have been like.)

New York heard its first Das Lied von der Erde in early February 1922, performed by the

Friends of Music under Artur Bodanzky to—as Richard Aldrich noted—a progressively

dwindling audience. The heat of battle increased later that month, however, as Mengelberg

arrived with an impressive calling-card. On February 28, 1922, he confronted New York

with its first hearing of the Mahler Third, longest of them all. (On internal evidence,

suggested the English writer Sir Donald Tovey, it was composed during a holiday at

Lanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.) Whatever intellectual

luggage Mengelberg carried with him to New York, critical acceptance of his taste for Mahler

was not included. "Not content with introducing this dreary and unprofitable work to a

composing these words, and the echo of Ferrier's "Ewig . . . ewig" seems to resound in the

shadows behind me as I write.

Gustav Mahler returned to Vienna in February 1911 and died three months

later; he had been unable to conduct his last scheduled concerts with the New

York Philharmonic and gave it over to his concertmaster, Theodore Spiering.

Josef Stransky, Mahler's successor at the Philharmonic, led the Funeral March

from the Fifth Symphony as a memorial in November 1911; over the ensuing decade, New

York's local forces produced but one Mahler symphony—the Fourth, also led by Stransky.

Despite this momentary "famine," however, Mahler's long-promised "time" came ever closer.

In 1913, the eminent Austrian musicologist Guido Adler surveyed the Mahler realm and

found it flourishing: There had been 260 performances of the nine symphonies worldwide

so far, 80 conducted by Mahler and the rest by a growing circle of ardent advocates. The slim

pickings in New York were augmented, furthermore, when Leopold Stokowski, who in

March 1916 had given the Eighth Symphony its first American hearing with his

Philadelphia Orchestra and attendant vocal resources, then brought the whole gargantuan

shebang—literally 1,000 strong—north to the Metropolitan Opera House. The reception

followed predictable pathways: ecstasy from the overflow crowd, modified rapture verging

upon disdain from the press. "His themes, generally forcible and direct in their line," wrote

the Times's Richard Aldrich, "are often submitted to the thumbscrew and the rack of

mordantly dissonant harmonies, [and] are broken and tortured relentlessly." (It would be

another 34 years before the New York Philharmonic itself got around to the Eighth; once

164 165

public that never had taken Mahler to heart as a composer," railed Musical America's Oscar

Thompson, " . . Willem Mengelberg, avowedly a Mahler convert and apostle, preached it

with all the eloquence of a virtuoso conductors art. . . ." And Deems Taylor, critic,

composer—and, in years to come, as Philharmonic radio host, obliged to speak an occasional

kind word or two on Mahler's behalf—echoed. "When a man fixes you with a stern,

glittering eye," he wrote in the New York World, "and tells you that some Mahler work you

never heard is one of the most sublime products of the human mind, you cannot very well

refute him. If you reply, 'I dont believe it,' he only says, why?' And if, cornered, you say

'because I've heard some of his other things,' he merely remarks triumphantly, 'but you

should hear this one!'"

Mengelberg's Mahler did not charm the press, but his "stern, glittering eye" worked

wonders with the audience; he became phenomenally popular as his position at the

Philharmonic advanced from guest to Co-conductor (with Toscanini)—all the time

maintaining his stewardship over the Mahler shrine he had created back home in

Amsterdam. In his time at the Philharmonic—which included that orchestras merger in

1928 with its longtime rival the New York Symphony—Mengelberg led the Philharmonic

in performances of Mahler's Second Symphony (twice), Third (American premiere), Fifth

(twice), Seventh (New York premiere) and Das Lied von der Erde (twice). Willem van

Hoogstraten, Mengelberg's compatriot and assistant, took the First Symphony to the

summertime audiences at Manhattan's Lewisohn Stadium. Meanwhile that other notable

Album cover for the world-premiere recording of Mahler's Symphony No. 5, by the New

York Philharmonic under Bruno Walter in 1947. 166

Mahler apostle (and one-time disciple), Bruno Walter, made his American debut with the

New York Symphony in 1923, and conducted Mahler's First with that orchestra in 1924.

Bruno Walter's appearance on the local Mahlerian battlefield coincided with another

major arrival, that of the formidable Olin Downes to replace Richard Aldrich as chief

critic at The New York Times. Downes arrived already honorably scarred, after 18 years of

fighting (and losing) the good fight to save the world from Mahler at his former battle

station at the Boston Post. Now Bruno Walter received the first salvo. "It is a pity that

creative genius in music does not always go hand in hand with noble aspiration," began

Downes's inaugural fulmination, in the Times of February 29 , 1924. "This was borne

upon the hearer of Mahler's First Symphony, performed very sympathetically by Bruno

Walter and the New York Symphony. . . . Again and again the composer hauls at his

bootstraps, and remains on the ground."

The line was drawn, the pattern set: on one side, Gustav Mahler and his dedicated

interpreters, cheered on by large and clearly partisan audiences; on the other, the New York

press, generated by Olin Downes, implacable and—sadder yet—predictable. Due credit

was given. Nary a vitriol-drenched column failed to notice the excellence of the orchestral

execution, the dedication of the conductor, the ecstasy of the clearly misguided crowd that

remained to the end, the wisdom of those who chose to leave early.

A litany rings through these writings from the 1920s, not only from Downes and his

newspaper colleagues, but also from such progressive-minded writers as Paul Rosenfeld of

Dial and The New Republic. Mahler's music lives on through Mengelberg's enormous

personal appeal; once Mengelberg goes, the music—in Downes's words—"will surely

168 perish." Mengelberg departed in 1930, leaving the Philharmonic in sole possession of

Toscanini, whose antipathy toward Mahler and his music is easily traceable to their days of

uneasy tandem at the Metropolitan Opera in 1908. But if Toscanini never conducted a

note of Mahler in his lifetime, he did not seal off the entryway to others. Bruno Walter

returned to lead the first two symphonies in 1933, and Das Lied von der Erde a year later.

Otto Klemperer, like Walter a refugee from the rising ride of Nazism, led a performance of

the Second in 1935; he had also led that work and several other Mahler symphonies during

his tenure (1933-39) with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. "It shook the audience," Downes

reported, "and resulted in a prolonged demonstration . . . [despite] the commonness of the

themes, the prolixity. . . ."

John Barbirolli succeeded Toscanini at the Philharmonic in 1937; although he would

enthusiastically plead the cause in later years, the extent of his service to Mahler in New York

during his tenure as Music Director consisted of the brief Adagietto from the Fifth

Symphony, the music nobody doesn't love—nobody, that is, except Downes, who began by

mis-identifying the music as belonging to the Second Symphony. "The performance was the

best of the evening," huffed the predictable Olin, "but it could not make a thing of the

music which it is not. Long movement or short, we seek still for the proof that Gustav

Mahler was the man his adherents make him out to be." (You must know, by the way, that

the use of the editorial "we" in Downes's case always implied a partnership between him and

the Almighty, with no clear indication as to which was which.)

Meanwhile, the cause was being argued in other cities as well. Boston's Serge

Koussevitzky had given the Ninth its belated American premiere in 1931 and repeated the

work several times in the ensuing decade. Otto Klemperer had established a respectable

Mahler outpost in Los Angeles. In Minneapolis, Eugene Ormandy's 1935 performance of 169

the Second was recorded by RCA-Victor and released on eleven 78-rpm shellac records.

That behemoth of an album, along with Bruno Walter's Vienna performances of Das Lied

von der Erde and the Ninth (recorded practically on the eve of Hitler's annexation of

Austria), formed practically the sole sustenance of Mahlerite record collectors through the

war years, joined soon afterwards by another Minneapolis blockbuster, Dimitri

Mitropoulos's version of the First.

An international score sheet of Mahler performances shows an interesting

configuration. Berlin checks in first, with some of the Knaben Wunderhorn songs

in 1893 and the first movement of the Second Symphony (performed separately

as Totenfeier) a year later. Vienna hears the complete Second in 1899,

Mengelberg's Amsterdam explodes onto the scene in 1903. New York hears the Fourth in

1904, thanks to Walter Damrosch and his New York Symphony. Chicago hears the Fifth in

1907. Gradually the chart fills in; by 1933 the Mahlerian realm bristles with activity. Adolf

Hitler takes command, and the dropouts begin. Berlin goes silent in 1933, after what

amounted to a virtual orgy of Mahler mania; Vienna, in 1938. Hitler's troops invade The

Netherlands in 1940; even Mengelberg cannot keep Mahler's music alive. New York becomes

Mahler's capital-in-exile, with some degree of activity in Boston and Chicago as well.

Bruno Walter had fled his native Vienna under the Nazi shadow, settling first in France

and eventually in the United States. He had last conducted Das Lied von der Erde with the

Philharmonic in 1934; he returned with the same work in January 1941. Mahler's tide had

now definitively turned at the Philharmonic, with Artur Rodzinski in charge, with Walter

170

and Dimitri Mitropoulos as frequent guests—and, from 1943, with the incandescent

Leonard Bernstein standing by in the wings. One tide had not turned, however. "There is a

degree of ostentation," wrote Olin Downes of Walter's 1945 Ninth, "which would be funny

if it were not so vu lgar . . . . The orchestration is swollen to ten times the values of the ideas."

Now, however, a counterbalancing force was at hand. At the Herald Tribune there was Virgil

Thomson, French-trained and French-leaning but an eloquent Mahlerite even so.

'Beautifully made and beautifully thought," was Thomson's take on the Ninth (in a 1941

performance by Koussevitzky and the Boston), ". . . stylistically more noble than anything

[ Richard] Strauss, with all his barnstorming brilliance, ever achieved."

Even at this late date, there were holes in the Mahler repertory. The problematic Sixth

Symphony had to wait until 1947 for its American premiere (conducted by Mitropoulos on

December 11, with the predictable response). A year later Mitropoulos revived the Seventh,

unheard in New York since 1923; this drew a vituperation from Downes unique even by his

standards. "There is little that this writer cares to say on the subject of Mahler's symphony,"

wrote America's most influential tastemaker. "He does not like it at all. . . . It is to our mind

bad art, bad esthetic, bad, presumptious and blatantly vulgar music. . . . After three-quarters

of an hour of the worst and most pretentious of the Mahler symphonies we found we could

not take it and left the hall." From Los Angeles Arnold Schoenberg, infuriated at Downes's

out-of-hand dismissal of the work—as he had been with Downes's equally vitriolic put-down

of his own Five Pieces for Orchestra—responded with a letter of protest full of Mahlerian

resonance; Downes replied, allowing that the music he liked was to him a religion and, thus,

entitled him to be intolerant of other religions. The correspondence, rather pathetic reading

at this late date, filled quite a lot of newsprint in a November and December of 50 years ago.

But Downes had lost the battle, and he probably knew it. Curious indeed are his words 171

about the gargantuan Eighth, which Leopold Stokowski, the Philharmonic, and the requisite

close-to-a-thousand vocal aggregation returned to New York in April 1950, after 34 years

away. Stokowski prefaced the 80-minute Mahler work with one of the brief "Sacred

Symphonies" for chorus and brass by the Baroque master Giovanni Gabrieli. Downes,

obviously taken by the work, gave it five of the seven paragraphs of his review; the two Mahler

paragraphs, furthermore, contained only two adjectives: "sweeping" and "immense."

"Gabrieli said it all," said Olin Downes.

By 1950, the concert halls of Berlin and Vienna again resounded to Mahler's music; a new

generation of conductors, including Willem van Otterloo and Eduard van Beinum, had

restored Amsterdam as a Mahler shrine. The long-playing record had begun the spread of his

music worldwide. In New York, Bruno Walter and Dimitri Mitropoulos stoked the fires; in

1959, even Sir John Barbirolli, returning as guest conductor, performed the First. On New

Years Eve, 1959, the Philharmonic honored the centennial of Mahler's birth by launching its

first (but not its last) Mahler Festival, spread across seven successive weekends, with Dimitri

Mitropoulos and Leonard Bernstein on the podium, culminating in a triumphant Bernstein-

led Second Symphony that established that young conductors star permanently in the

firmament. (Bruno Walter closed the Festival in April with Das Lied.) The press—even The

New York Times-, where Olin Downes's successor was the astute and no less perceptive Howard

Taubman—invoked such non-Downesian adjectives as "irresistible" and "extraordinary."

Promotional postcard for the Amsterdam Mahler Festival in May 1920, when Mengelberg

led the Concertgebouw Orchestra in the world's first comprehensive Mahler cycle. From

1922 to 1930, Mengelberg was a Principal Conductor of the New York Philharmonic. 173

Four generations of conductors had preached Mahler's gospel from the stage of Carnegie Hall

(with an occasional side trip to the Metropolitan Opera House and, in the near future, to Lincoln

Center). Mahler himself had laid the foundation; Mengelberg and then Waller had built on it;

later, so had Rodzinski and the mystical Mitropoulos. Leonard Bernstein was still something of

an unknown when he conducted his first Mahler in 1947; audiences came, however, because his

Mahlerian predecessors had already revealed the greatness in this music. His accomplishment was

to spread that revelation, to expand exponentially, in person and through the media, the realm

in which the music of Mahler thundered forth in its full redemptive, uplifting, depressing,

exasperating power. His successors—Pierre Boulez, Zubin Mehta, currently Kurt Masur—sealed

the victory. Now the name of Mahler on a program stands as a promise of musical glory, not a

summons to man the battlements. His time has come. •

Alan Rich is music critic for LA Weekly and was formerly chief critic at the New York Herald

Tribune and New York magazine. His books include Music, Mirror of the Arts, T h e Lincoln

Center Story, Careers and Opportunities in Music, and the four-volume Play-by-Play series

(Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky). He has taught at the New School for Social Research,

California Institute of the Arts, and UCLA.

Leonard Bernstein and Dimitri Mitropoulos, who shared the bulk of the Philharmonic's 1960

Mahler Festival performances, pictured circa 1958 174

Mahler as Composer: The New York Philharmonic Performances

1904-05

*Symphony N o . 4

Nov. 6, 1904

(United States premiere)

Carnegie Hall

Walter Damrosch

Etta de Montjau, soprano

1908-09

*Symphony N o . 2

Dec . 8, 1908

(United States premiere)

Carnegie Hall

Gustav Mahler

Laura L . C o m b s , soprano

Gertrude Stein Bailey, alto

Oratorio Society

1909-10

S y m p h o n y N o . 1

D e c . 16, 17, 1909

(United States premiere)

Carnegie Hall

Gustav Mahler

Kindertotenl ieder

Jan . 26 , 1910

Carnegie Hall

Jan . 2 8 , 1910

Brooklyn Academy of Music

Gustav Mahler

Ludwig Wüllner, baritone

1910-11

Lieder eines fahrenden

Gesellen:

"Ging heut' Morgen

über's Feld"

D e s K n a b e n Wunderhorn:

"Rheinlegendchen"

Nov. 2 2 , 2 5 , 1910

Carnegie Hall

Gustav Mahler

A lma Gluck, soprano

S y m p h o n y N o . 4

Jan . 17, 20 , 1911

Carnegie Hall

Gustav Mahler

Bella Alten, soprano

1911-12

S y m p h o n y N o . 5: Mvt . 1

Nov. 2 3 , 24 , 1911

(In memory of Gustav Mahler)

Carnegie Hall

Jose f Stransky 176

*Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast, no known copy

1915-16

Lieder eines fahrenden

Gesellen

Feb. 6, 1916

Aeolian Hall

Walter Damrosch

Marcia Van Dresser, soprano

Symphony N o . 4

Feb. 24 , 2 5 , 1916

Carnegie Hall

Josef Stransky

May Peterson, soprano

1920-21

S y m p h o n y N o . 1

Dec. 3 1 , 1920; Jan . 20 , 1921

Carnegie Hall

Josef Stransky

1921-22

S y m p h o n y N o . 3

Feb. 2 8 , 1922

Metropolitan Opera House

Mar. 2 , 3, 1922

Carnegie Hall

Mar. 5, 1922

Brooklyn Academy of Music

Willem Mengelberg

Julia Claussen, contralto

T h e Saint Cecilia C l u b

T h e Boys' Choi r of Father

Finn's Paulist Choristers

1922-23

S y m p h o n y N o . 7

Mar. 8, 9, 1923

Carnegie Hall

Willem Mengelberg

1924-25

* S y m p h o n y N o . 1

Nov. 28 , 2 9 , 1924

Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

S y m p h o n y N o . 2

Mar. 2 8 , 1925

Carnegie Hall

Apr. 5, 1925

Metropolitan Opera House

Willem Mengelberg

Marie Sundelius, soprano

M m e . Charles Cahier, contralto

Chorus of the Schola

C an to rum

1925-26

*Des K n a b e n Wunderhorn:

" D a s irdische Leben"

"Der Schildwache Nachtl ied"

"Rheinlegendchen"

Nov. 5, 6, 1925

Carnegie Hall

Walter Damrosch

Sigrid Onegin , contralto

S y m p h o n y N o . 2

Nov. 2 5 , 2 7 , 1925

Carnegie Hall

Willem Mengelberg

Ruth Rodgers, soprano

Martha Offers, contralto

Chorus of the Schola

Can to rum

S y m p h o n y N o . 1

Jul . 16, 1926

Lewisohn Stadium

Willem van Hoogstraten

S y m p h o n y N o . 2: Mvt . 2

Nov. 2 8 , 1925++

[Students' Concert]

Carnegie Hall

Willem Mengelberg

1926-27

S y m p h o n y N o . 5

Dec . 2 , 3, 1926

Carnegie Hall

Willem Mengelberg l77

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy * Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

178 179

Bruno Jaenicke, horn

1 9 2 7 - 2 8

Symphony No. 5 Dec. 4, 17, 1927

Carnegie Hall

Dec. 5, 1927

Philadelphia, PA

Dec. 6, 1927

Baltimore, MD

Willem Mengelberg

Bruno Jaenicke, horn

1 9 2 8 - 2 9

Das Lied von der Erde Jan. 3, 4, 1929

Carnegie Hall

Willem Mengelberg

Margaret Matzenauer, contralto

Richard Crooks, tenor

1 9 2 9 - 3 0

D a s L ied von der Erde

Jan . 16, 17, 1930

Carnegie Hall

Willem Mengelberg

Margaret Matzenauer, contralto

Richard Crooks , tenor

Symphony No. 7: Mvts. 2 and 4

Jul. 19, 1931

Lewisohn Stadium

Willem van Hoogstraten

1 9 3 1 - 3 2

Symphony No. 7: Mvts. 2 and 4

Nov. 18, 20, 21 [Students'

Concert], 1931

Carnegie Hall

Nov. 22, 1931++ Brooklyn Academy of Music

Erich Kleiber

Symphony No. 5 Feb. 11, 12, 13 [Students'

Concert], 14++, 1932

Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

Bruno Jaenicke, horn

Symphony No. 1

Aug. 11, 1933

Lewisohn Stadium

Willem van Hoogstraten

1 9 3 2 - 3 3

Symphony No. 2

Feb. 23, 24, 1933

Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

Jeannette Vreeland, soprano

Sigrid Onegin, contralto

Chorus of the Schola

Cantorum of New York

1 9 3 3 - 3 4

Symphony No. 1

Oct. 12, 13, 14, 15++, 1933 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

1 9 3 4 - 3 5

Das Lied von der Erde Dec. 20, 21 , 1934

Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

Maria Olszewska, contralto

Frederick Jagel, tenor

1 9 3 5 - 3 6

Symphony No. 2

Dec. 12, 13, 15++, 1935

Carnegie Hall

Otto Klemperer

Susanne Fisher, soprano

Enid Szantho, contralto

Chorus of the Schola

Cantorum of New York

1 9 3 6 - 3 7

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. 2 July 2 1 , 1937

Lewisohn Stadium

Fritz Reiner

1 9 3 9 - 4 0

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Oct. 26, 27, Dec. 16

[Students' Concert],

17++, 1939 Carnegie Hall

John Barbirolli

1 9 4 0 - 4 1

Symphony No. 1

Jan. 8, 10, 12+, 1941 Carnegie Hall

Dimitri Mitropoulos

Das Lied von der Erde Jan. 23, 24, 1941

Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

Kerstin Thorborg, contralto

Charles Kullman, tenor

Symphony No. 1: Mvt. 2 Aug. 4, 1941

Lewisohn Stadium

William Steinberg

1 9 4 1 - 4 2

Symphony No. 4 Jan. 7, 9, 1942

Carnegie Hall

Dimitri Mitropoulos

Mona Paulee, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 2

Jan. 22, 23, 25 ++, 1942 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Nadine Conner, soprano Mona Paulee, mezzo-soprano The Westminster Choir

Kindertotenlieder

Jun. 27, 1942 Lewisohn Stadium

Alexander Smallens Blair McClosky, baritone

1 9 4 2 - 4 3

Symphony No. 1 Oct. 22, 23, 25++ 1942

Carnegie Hall

Oct. 24, 1942

Princeton, NJ

Bruno Walter

1 9 4 3 - 4 4

Symphony No. 2 Dec. 2, 3, 4, 5+, 1943

Carnegie Hall

Artur Rodzinski

Astrid Varnay, soprano

Enid Szantho, contralto

The Westminster Choir

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. 2 Jan. 8, 1944 [encore]

Carnegie Hall

Artur Rodzinski

Symphony No. 4 Feb. 3, 4, 5 [Students' Concert], 6+ ,1944

Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Desi Halban, soprano

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. 2 Jun. 28, 1944

Lewisohn Stadium

Alexander Smallens

1 9 4 4 - 4 5

Das Lied von der Erde Nov. 16, 17, 19+, 1944

Carnegie Hall

Artur Rodzinski

Kerstin Thorberg, contralto Charles Kullman, tenor

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. 2 June 24, 1945 Lewisohn Stadium

Alexander Smallens

1945-46

Symphony No. 1 Oct. 18, 19, 20,21++ , 1945 (Only Mvts. 1 and 2 broadcast) Carnegie Hall

Artur Rodzinski

Symphony No. 9 Dec. 20, 21, 1945 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Apr. 4, 5, 1946 Carnegie Hall

Artur Rodzinski Marian Anderson, contralto

1946-47

Symphony No. 5 Feb. 6, 7, 1947 Carnegie Hall 180

Bruno Walter James Chambers, horn

Symphony No. 1 (Mvt. 4 abridged for broadcast)

Mar. 2 0 , 2 1 , 2 2 , 23+, 1947 Carnegie Hall

Efrem Kurtz

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. 2 Jul. 16, 1947 Lewisohn Stadium

Alexander Smallens

1947-48

Symphony No. 6 Dec. 11, 12, 13 [Students' Concert], 1947

(United States premiere) Carnegie Hall

Dimitri Mitropoulos

Das Lied von der Erde Jan. 15, 16, 18 +, 1948 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Kathleen Ferrier, mezzo-soprano Set Svanholm, tenor

1948-49

Symphony No. 7 Nov. 11, 12, 1948 Carnegie Hall

Dimitri Mitropoulos

Symphony No. 2 Dec. 2, 3, 5 +, 1948 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Nadine Conner, soprano Jean Watson, contralto Westminster Choir

1949-50

Symphony No. 1 Feb. 9, 10, 12 +, 1950 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

Symphony No. 8 Apr. 6, 7, 9 +, 1950 Carnegie Hall

Leopold Stokowski Frances Yeend, soprano Uta Graf, soprano Camilla Williams, soprano Martha Lipton, mezzo-soprano Louise Bernhardt, alto Eugene Conley, tenor Carlos Alexander, tenor

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

George London, bass-baritone Schola Cantorum of New York Westminster Choir Boys' Chorus from Public School No. 12, Manhattan

1951-52

Symphony No. 4 Aug. 22, 1951 Edinburgh, Scotland

Bruno Walter Irmgard Seefried, soprano

Symphony No. 1 Oct. 18, 19, 21++, 1951 Carnegie Hall

Dimitri Mitropoulos

1952-53

Symphony No. 4 Des Knaben Wunderhorn: "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen" " Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht?"

Rückert Lieder: "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen"

Jan. 1,2, 1953 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Irmgard Seefried, soprano

Symphony No. 4 Jan. 4, 1953+ Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Irmgard Seefried, soprano

Das Lied von der Erde Feb. 19, 20, 22 +, 1953 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Elena Nikolaidi, contralto Set Svanholm, tenor

1953-54

Symphony No. 1 Jan. 24, 1954+ Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter

1954-55

Symphony No. 6 Apr. 7, 8, 10 +, 1955 Carnegie Hall

Dimitri Mitropoulos

1955-56

Symphony No. 3

(Mvts. 1, 3, and 6 abridged for broadcast)

Apr. 12, 13, 15 +, 1956 Carnegie Hall

Dimitri Mitropoulos Beatrice Krebs, mezzo-contralto Women's Chorus of the Westminster Choir

1956-57

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen"

Rückert Lieder: "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen" "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft"

Feb. 14, 15, 1957 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Maria Stader, soprano

Symphony No. 2 Feb. 14, 15, 17 +, 1957 Carnegie Hall

Bruno Walter Maria Stader, soprano Maureen Forrester, contralto The Westminster Choir

181

* Symphony Society Orchestra f Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ft Radio broadcast day, no known copy

1957-58

Symphony No. 10: Mvts. 1 and 3 [Krenek]

Mar. 13, 14, 16+, 1958 (New York premiere) Carnegie Hall Dimitri Mitropoulos

1958-59

Symphony No. 1 Jan. 8, 9, 10+, 11, 1959 Carnegie Hall Sir John Barbirolli

Symphony No. 1: Mvt. 3 Feb. 28, 1959

[television broadcast] (Young Peoples Concert: "Humor in Music")

Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein

1959-60

Mahler Festival

Symphony No. 5 Dec. 31, 1959; Jan. l,2+, 3, 1960

Carnegie Hall Dimitri Mitropoulos James Chambers, horn

Symphony No. 1 Jan. 7, 8, 9+, 10, 1960 Carnegie Hall Dimitri Mitropoulos

Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1 [Krenek]

Jan. 14, 15, 16+, 17, 1960 Carnegie Hall Dimitri Mitropoulos

Symphony No. 9 Jan. 21, 22, 23+, 24, 1960 Carnegie Hall Dimitri Mitropoulos

Symphony No. 1 (excerpts) Symphony No. 2 (excerpts) Symphony No. 4 (excerpts) Das Lied von der Erde (excerpts)

Des Knaben Wunderhorn (selections)

Jan. 23, 1960 (Young People's Concert: "Who Is Gustav Mahler?")

Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein Reri Grist, soprano Helen Raab, contralto William Lewis, tenor

Symphony No. 4 Jan. 28, 29, 30++, 31, 1960 Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein Reri Grist, soprano

Rückert Lieder: "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen" "Um Mitternacht"

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: "Das irdische Leben "

Feb. 4, 5, 6++, 7, 1960 Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano

Kindertotenlieder Feb. 11, 1960 Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein Gerard Souzay, baritone

Kindertotenlieder Feb. 12, 13++ 14, 1960 Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 2 Feb. 18, 19, 20+, 21, 1960 Carnegie Hall

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy

Leonard Bernstein Phyllis Curtin, soprano Regina Resnik, mezzo-soprano Rutgers University Choir

Das Lied von der Erde Apr. 15, 16+, 21, 24, 1960 Carnegie Hall Bruno Walter Maureen Forrester, contralto Richard Lewis, tenor

1960-61

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. 4 ("Urlicht")

Nov. 3, 4, 5++, 6, 1960 Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 3 Mar. 30, 31+, Apr. 1, 2, 1961 (In memory of Dimitri Mitropoulos)

Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein Martha Lipton, mezzo-soprano Women's Chorus from the Schola Cantorum of New York

Boys' Choir from the Little Church Around the Corner

1961-62

Symphony No. 4 Jan. 11, 12, 13+, 14, 1962 Carnegie Hall Georg Solti Irmgard Seefried, soprano

Symphony No. 7 (Mvt. 5 abridged for broadcast)

Mar. 15, 16, 17+, 18, 1962 Carnegie Hall William Steinberg

Symphony No. 1 May 3, 4, 5++, 6, 1962 Carnegie Hall Leonard Bernstein

1962-63

Symphony No. 8: Mvt. 1 Sep. 23, 1962+ (Inaugural concert in Philharmonic Hall)

Philharmonic Hall Leonard Bernstein Adele Addison, soprano Lucine Amara, soprano Lili Chookasian, mezzo-soprano Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano Richard Tucker, tenor

Ezio Flagello, baritone George London, bass-baritone Schola Cantorum of New York Juilliard Chorus Columbus Boychoir

Symphony No. 9 Dec. 6, 7, 8+, 9, 1962 Philharmonic Hall Sir John Barbirolli

Symphony No. 5 Jan. 3, 4, 5++, 6, 1963 Philharmonic Hall Leonard Bernstein James Chambers, horn

1963-64

Symphony No. 2 Sep. 26, 27, 28, 29, 1963 Philharmonic Hall Leonard Bernstein Lee Venora, soprano Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano Collegiate Chorale

Symphony No. 2 Nov. 24, 1963 (Television broadcast; in memory of President John F. Kennedy)

CBS Studios, NY

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy

182 183

Leonard Bernstein

Lucine Amara, soprano

Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano

Schola Cantorum of New York

Das Lied von der Erde

Feb. 2 0 , 2 1 , 2 2 , 23+ 1964

Philharmonic Hall

Joseph Krips

Maureen Forrester, contralto

Richard Lewis, tenor

1964-65

Kindertotenlieder

Oct. 8, 9, 10, 11+, 1964

Philharmonic Hall

Joseph Krips

Maureen Forrester, contralto

Lieder eines fahrenden

Gesellen

Nov. 26, 27+, 1964

Philharmonic Hall

William Steinberg

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau,

baritone

Symphony No. 4

Feb. 25 [Students' Concert],

26, 27, 28+, 1965

Philharmonic Hall

Joseph Krips

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy

(90th anniversary of

Bruno Walter' s birth)

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Das Lied von der Erde

Mar. 17, 18+, 20, 1967

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Jess Thomas, tenor

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau,

baritone

Symphony No. 6

Apr. 27, 28, 29+, May 1, 1967

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 2

Jun. 22, 24, 1967

(Opening concerts,

125th anniversary)

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Veronica Tyler, soprano

Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano

Schola Cantorum of New York

1967-68

Symphony No. 4

Sep. 12, 1967

Ann Arbor, MI

Sep. 14, 1967

Chicago, IL

Sep. 19, 1967

Calgary, Canada

Sep. 20, 1967

Vancouver, Canada

Sep. 25, 1967

London, Canada

Sep. 27, 1967

Ottawa, Canada

Sep. 29, 1967

Montreal, Canada

Oct. 5, 6, 7, 9, 1967

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Jeannette Zarou, soprano

Des Knaben Wunderhorn:

"Der Schildwache Nachtlied"

"Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht?"

"Lob des hohen Verstandes"

"Wo die schönen Trompeten

blasen"

"Rheinlegendchen"

"Des Antonius von Padua

Fischpredigt"

"Revelge"

"Verlor'ne Müh'"

Oct. 12, 13, 14, 16, 1967

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano

Walter Berry, baritone

Symphony No. 5

Oct. 19, 2 0 , 2 1 , 2 3 , 25 , 1967

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Joseph Singer, horn

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: "Rheinlegendchen"

"Des Antonius von Padua

Fischpredigt"

"Verlor'ne Muh'"

Oct. 28, 1967, morn. & aft.

[television broadcast]

(Young People's Concert:

"A Toast to Vienna in 3 /4 Time")

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano

Walter Berry, baritone

Symphony No. 10 [Cooke]

Apr. 25, 26, 27, 29, 1968

Philharmonic Hall

William Steinberg

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

June 8, 1968

(Funeral of Robert F. Kennedy)

St. Patrick's Cathedral,

New York, NY

Leonard Bernstein

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

Pierrette Alarie, soprano

Symphony No. 6

Apr. 29, 30, May l , 2 + , 1965

Philharmonic Hall

William Steinberg

1965-66

Symphony No. 9

Nov. 25 , 26, 27+, 29, 1965

(In memory of President

John F. Kennedy)

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 7

Dec. 2, 3, 4+, 6, 1965

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 8

Dec. 9, 10, 11, 13, 15, 1965

Philharmonic Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Saramae Endich, soprano

Ella Lee, soprano

Jennie Tourel, mezzo-soprano

Beverly Wolff, mezzo-soprano

George Shirley, tenor

John Boyden, baritone

Ezio Flagello, bass

Westminster Choir

St. Kilian Boychoir

Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1

[Krenek]

Jan. 19, 1966++ (Dimitri Mitropoulos

International Competition

winners)

Philharmonic Hall

Sylvia Caduff

1966-67

Symphony No. 1

Sep. 13, 1966

Philadelphia, PA

Sep. 16, 1966

Villanova, PA

Sep. 17, 1966

Richmond, VA

Sep. 18, 1966

Washington, DC

Sep. 20, 1966

Hartford, CT

Sep. 2 1 , 1966

Storrs, CT

Sep. 22, 1966

Springfield, MA

Sep. 24, 1966

Providence, RI

Sep. 25, 1966

Boston, MA

Sep. 29, 30, Oct. 1+, 3, 1966 184 185

186

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

May 6, 7, 8, 1971 Philharmonic Hall Pierre Boulez Yvonne Minton, mezzo-soprano

1971-72

Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1 [Ratz]

Sep. 23, 24, 25, 27, 1971 Philharmonic Hall Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 2 Dec. 15, 1971 (Leonard Bernstein's

1000th concert with the New York Philharmonic)

Philharmonic Hall Leonard Bernstein Martina Arroyo, soprano Shirley Verrett, mezzo-soprano The Camerata Singers

Symphony No. 5 May 11, 12, 13, 1972 Philharmonic Hall Lorin Maazel Joseph Singer, horn

1972-73

SymphonyNo. 5 Aug. 19, 1972 Vienna, VA Aug. 26, 1972 Rochester, MI Aug. 29, 1972 Madison, WI Sep. 6, 1972 Topeka, KS Sep. 7, 1972 Bloomington, IN Erich Leinsdorf Joseph Singer, horn

SymphonyNo. 10: Mvt. 1 [Krenek]

Sep. 14, 1972 Columbus, OH Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 6 Sep. 28, 29, 30, Oct. 3, 1972 Philharmonic Hall Pierre Boulez

Rückert Lieder: "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen" "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen"

"Liebst du um Schönheit" "Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder!" "Um Mitternacht"

Feb. 1,2, 1973 Philharmonic Hall Pierre Boulez Siegmund Nimsgern, baritone

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Jun. 1, 5, 6, 1973 Philharmonic Hall Aaron Copland

1973-74

Symphony No. 8 Feb. 14, 15, 16, 19, 1974 Avery Fisher Hall Pierre Boulez Edda Moser, soprano Felicity Palmer, soprano Betty Allen, mezzo-soprano Jan DeGaetani, mezzo-soprano Werner Hollweg, tenor Siegmund Nimsgern, baritone Raymond Michalski, bass-baritone

Westminster Choir Boys' Choir from the Little Church Around the Corner

Trinity School Boys' Choir St. Pauls Episcopal Church

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

1968-69

Symphony No. 5 Aug. 24, 1968 Ghent, Belgium Aug. 29, 1968 Jerusalem, Israel Aug. 31, 1968 Caesarea, Israel Sep. 5, 1968 Vienna, Austria Sep. 8, 1968 Venice, Italy Sep. 12, 1968 Montreux, Switzerland Sep. 14, 15, 1968 Milan, Italy Sep. 22, 24, 1968 Berlin, Germany Sep. 29, 1968 Washington, DC Leonard Bernstein Joseph Singer, horn

Kindertotenlieder Oct. 23, 28, 1968 Philharmonic Hall Leonard Bernstein Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Mar. 28, 1969 (In memory of President Dwight D. Eisenhower)

Philharmonic Hall Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 3 May 15, 16, 17, 1969 Philharmonic Hall Leonard Bernstein Betty Allen, mezzo-soprano Women's Chorus from the

Schola Cantorum of New York Boys' Choir from the Little Church Around the Corner

The Browning School Boys' Choir

John Ware, posthorn

1969-70

Symphony No. 6 Nov. 20, 21, 22, 24, 1969 Philharmonic Hall George Szell

Symphony No. 1 Jan. 8, 9, 12, 1970 Philharmonic Hall Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos

Symphony No. 4 Apr. 16, 17, 18, 20

[Lincoln Center Student Program], 1970

Philharmonic Hall May 6, 1970 Washington, DC Lorin Maazel Jane Marsh, soprano

1970-71

Symphony No. 9 Aug. 29, 1970 Osaka, Japan Sep. 7, 1970 Tokyo, Japan Sep. 24, 25, 28, 1970 (In memory of Sir John Barbirolli and George Szell)

Philharmonic Hall Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 3: Mvt. 6 Jan. 5, 1971++ (Mitropoulos International Music Competition)

Felt Forum, New York Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 1 (with Blumine) Feb. 11, 12, 13, 15, 1971 Philharmonic Hall Seiji Ozawa 187

Boys' Choir Newark Boys' Chorus

Symphony No. 1 Apr. 18, 19, 20, 23, 1974 Avery Fisher Hall

Bernhard Klee

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Aug. 6, 1974 Central Park, New York, NY

Leonard Bernstein

1974-75

Symphony No. 5 Aug. 17, 1974 Wellington, New Zealand

Aug. 18, 1974 Christchurch, New Zealand

Aug. 23, 1974 Sydney, Australia

Aug. 28, 1974 Melbourne, Australia

Sep. 1, 1974 Tokyo, Japan

Sep. 10, 1974 Osaka, Japan

Leonard Bernstein John Cerminaro, horn

188

Symphony No. 4 Sep. 19, 20 ,21 ,24 , 1974 Avery Fisher Hall

Pierre Boulez Frederica von Stade, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 9 Sep. 26, 27, 28, Oct. 1, 1974 Avery Fisher Hall

Pierre Boulez

Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Mar. 6, 1975 Avery Fisher Hall

Pierre Boulez Betty Allen, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1 [Ratz]

Mar. 27, 28, 29, Apr. 1, 1975 Avery Fisher Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 9 Jun. 27, 1975 Avery Fisher Hall

Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1 [Krenek]

Jun. 29, 1975

Avery Fisher Hall

Pierre Boulez

1975-76

Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1 [Ratz]

Aug. 23, 1975 Vienna, VA

Aug. 29, 1975++ Edinburgh, Scotland

Sep. 2, 1975 Brussels, Belgium

Sep. 12, 1975 Frankfurt, Germany

Sep. 13, 1975 Stuttgart, Germany

Sep. 16, 1975 Munich, Germany

Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 9 Aug. 30, 1975+ London, England

Sep. 3, 1975 [television broadcast] Ghent, Belgium

Sep. 4, 1975 Lucerne, Switzerland

Sep. 15, 1975 Mannheim, Germany

Sep. 19, 1975 Chartres, France

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy

Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 1 Dec. 18, 19, 20+, 30, 1975 Avery Fisher Hall

William Steinberg

Symphony No. 1: Mvt. 2 Jan. 31, 1976 [Young People' s Concert]

Avery Fisher Hall

Michael Tilson-Thomas

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: uRevelge"

" Rheinlegendchen" "Lied des Verfolgten im Turme" "Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht?" "Trost im Unglück" "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen" "Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt" "Das irdische Leben" "Lob des hohen Verstandes" "Verlor' ne Müh" "Der Tamboursg'sell"

Feb. 26, 27, 28, Mar. 2+, 1976 Avery Fisher Hall

James Levine Jessye Norman, soprano John Shirley-Quirk, baritone

* Symphony Society Orchestra f Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ff Radio broadcast date, no known copy

Symphony No. 7 May 13, 14, 15, 1976 Avery Fisher Hall

Pierre Boulez

1976-77

Mahler Festival

Symphony No. 5 Aug. 26, 1976 Lewiston, NY

Aug. 28, 1976 Saratoga Springs, NY

Sep. 1, 1976 Helsinki, Finland

Sep. 10, 1976 Leningrad, USSR

Sep. 17, 1976 Moscow, USSR

Sep. 26, 1976+ Carnegie Hall

Erich Leinsdorf John Cerminaro, horn

Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Sep. 26, 1976+ Carnegie Hall

Erich Leinsdorf Frederica von Stade, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 2 Oct. 1, 1976+ Carnegie Hall

James Levine Carol Neblett, soprano Jessye Norman, soprano Westminster Choir

Symphony No. 6 Oct. 2, 1976+ Carnegie Hall

James Levine

Rückert Lieder: "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen" "Um Mitternacht" "Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder" "Liebst du um Schönheit" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen"

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: " Rheinlegendchen" "Das irdische Leben" "Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht?" "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen"

Oct. 8, 1976+ Carnegie Hall

James Levine Maria Ewing, mezzo-soprano

189

Symphony No. 4 Oct. 8, 1976+ Carnegie Hall James Levine Judith Blegen, soprano

Symphony No. 8

Oct. 9, 1976+ Carnegie Hall James Levine Carol Neblett, soprano Teresa Zylis-Gara, soprano Kathleen Battle, soprano Lili Chookasian, contralto Gwendolyn Killebrew, mezzo-soprano

Kenneth Riegel, tenor Michael Devlin, baritone Donald Mclntyre, baritone Westminster Choir Boys' Choir from the Little

Church Around the Corner Trinity School Boys' Choir The Brooklyn Boys' Chorus

Symphony No. 1 Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1 [Ratz]

Oct. 11, 1976+ Carnegie Hall James Levine

190

Symphony No. 7 Oct. 16, 1976+ Carnegie Hall Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 9 Oct. 17, 1976+ Carnegie Hall Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 9: Mvts. 2 & 4

Oct. 18, 1976 (Honoring construction workers)

Avery Fisher Hall Pierre Boulez

Symphony No. 3 Oct. 21,22, 23+, 26, 1976 Avery Fisher Hall Oct. 25, 1976 Carnegie Hall Pierre Boulez Yvonne Minton, mezzo-soprano The Camerata Singers Boys' Choir from the Little Church Around the Corner

Trinity School Boys' Choir The Brooklyn Boys' Chorus John Ware, posthorn

Symphony No. 1: Mvt. 4 Feb. 23, 1977 (Young People's Concert: "Harmony")

Avery Fisher Hall David Gilbert

Symphony No. 5 Mar. 3+, 4, 5, 8, 1977 Avery Fisher Hall David Gilbert John Cerminaro, horn

Symphony No. 1: Mvt. 1 Mar. 14, 1977

[Educational Concert] Avery Fisher Hall Erich Leinsdorf All-City H.S. Orchestra

1977-78

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Oct. 15, 17, 1977 [television broadcast] (Young People's Concerts: "Music and Your Emotions"'

Avery Fisher Hall Erich Leinsdorf

Symphony No. 9 Jan. 19+, 24, 1978

Avery Fisher Hall Rafael Kubelik

Symphony No. 1: Mvt. 4 Aug. 28, 1978 Marine Park, Brooklyn, NY Zubin Mehta

Symphony No. 1 Aug. 29, 1978 Van Cortlandt Park, Bronx, NY Aug. 30, 1978 Holmdel, NJ Zubin Mehta

1978-79

Symphony No. 1 Sep. 3, 1978 Buenos Aires, Argentina Sep. 7, 1978 Dominican Republic Sep. 14+, 15, 16, 19, Oct. 6, 1978

Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta

Symphony No. 5 Jan. 25, 26+, 27, 30, 1979 Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta Martin Smith, horn

Symphony No. 6 Mar. 15, 16+, 17, 20, 1979 Avery Fisher Hall Claudio Abbado

Symphony No. 1 Apr. 18, 1979 Boston, MA Apr. 19, 1979 Hartford, CT Apr. 21, 1979 Washington, DC Apr. 23, 1979 Philadelphia, PA Zubin Mehta

Symphony No. 1 Jun. 9, 1979+ Avery Fisher Hall Jun. 13, 1979 Denver, CO Jun. 16, 1979 Concord, CA Jun. 22,1979 Kyoto, Japan Jun. 25,1979 Osaka, Japan Jun. 27, 1979 Niigata, Japan Jun. 30, 1979 Seoul, Korea Jul. 5, 6, 1979 Tokyo, Japan

Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 5 Aug. 16, 1979 N Y Botanical Gardens, Bronx, NY

Aug. 19, 1979 Eisenhower Park, East Meadow, NY

Aug. 21, 1979 Snug Harbor, Staten Island, NY Aug. 25, 1979+ Tanglewood, Lenox, MA Zubin Mehta Martin Smith, horn

1979-80

Rückert Lieder: "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen" "Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder" "Um Mitternacht" "Liebst du um Schönheit" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen"

Nov. 15, 16+, 17, 20, 1979 Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta Jessye Norman, soprano

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy * Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy

191

Symphony No. 4 Feb. 28, 29 +, Mar. 1,4, 1980 Avery Fisher Hall

Walter Weller Maria Ewing, mezzo-soprano

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen" "Revelge" "Der Tamboursg'sell" "Lied des Verfolgten im Turm" "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen" "Trost im Unglück"

May l+, 3, 1980 Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone

Symphony No. 5 Jun. 18, 1980+ Avery Fisher Hall

Jun. 20, 1980 Syracuse, NY

Jun. 23, 1980 Chicago, IL

Jun. 25, 1980 Vienna, VA

Jun. 28, 1980 Saratoga, NY

192 Klaus Tennstedt

Philip Myers, horn

Symphony No. 1 Aug. 18, 1980 Central Park, New York, NY

Aug. 19, 1980 Crocheron Park, Queens, NY

Zubin Mehta

Rückert Lieder: "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen" "Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder" "Um Mitternacht" "Liebst du um Schönheit" "Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen"

Aug. 25, 1980+ Edinburgh, Scotland

Zubin Mehta Jessye Norman, soprano

Symphony No. 1 Aug. 25, 1980+ Edinburgh, Scotland

Aug. 27, 1980 Lucerne, Switzerland

Zubin Mehta

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen"

"Revelge" "Der Tamboursg'sell" "Lied des Verfolgten im Turm" "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen" "Trost im Unglück"

Sep. 7, 1980 Berlin, Germany

Zubin Mehta Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone

Symphony No. 1 Sep. 7, 1980 Berlin, Germany

Sep. 9, 1980 Bonn, Germany

Sep. 11, 1980+ Vienna, Austria

Sep. 16, 17, 1980 Paris, France

Sep. 18, 1980 London, England

Zubin Mehta

1980-81

Symphony No. 3 Oct. 2, 3+, 4, 7, 1980 Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta Maureen Forrester, contralto New York Choral Artists

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy

Brooklyn Boys' Chorus Philip Smith, posthorn

Symphony No. 7 Feb. 26, 27, 28 +, Mar. 3, 1981 Avery Fisher Hall

Rafael Kubelik

Symphony No. 4 Jun. 9, 1981+ Avery Fisher Hall

James Conlon Kathleen Battle, soprano

1981-82

Kindertotenlieder Sep. 10, l1 +, 12, 15, 1981 Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 2 Sep. 17, 18, 19 +, 22, 1981 Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta Kathleen Battle, soprano Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano Westminster Choir

Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Jan. 14+, 15, 1982

Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta Frederica von Stade, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 9 Feb. 18, 19, 20+, 23, 1982 Avery Fisher Hall

Klaus Tennstedt

Symphony No. 2 Mar. 7, 1982+ Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta Kathleen Battle, soprano Maureen Forrester, contralto Westminster Choir

Symphony No. 1 Aug. 3, 1982 Marine Park, Brooklyn, NY

Aug. 4, 1982 Snug Harbor, Staten Island, NY

Aug. 5, 1982 Crocheron Park, Queens, NY

Aug. 7, 1982 Hecksher State Park,

East Is lip, NY

Aug. 8, 1982 Eisenhower Park,

East Meadow, NY

Aug. 9, 1982 Central Park, New York, NY

Aug. 10, 1982 Co-Op City, Bronx, NY

James Conlon

1982-83

Symphony No. 6 Oct. 14, 15, 16+, 1982 Avery Fisher Hall

Giuseppe Sinopoli

Symphony No. 5 Jul. 25, 1983 Omaha, NE

Jul. 27, 1983 Hollywood, CA

Jul. 28, 1983 San Francisco, CA

Aug. 4, 1983 Houston, TX

Aug. 6, 1983 St. Louis, MO

Zubin Mehta Philip Myers, horn

1983-84

Symphony No. 1 Sep. 14, 1983+ Avery Fisher Hall

Rafael Kubelik

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy

193

Des Knaben Wunderhorn: "Revelge" "Lob des hohen Verstandes" "Wo die schönen Trompeten blasen" "Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt" "Der Tamboursg' sell"

Oct. 6, 7+, 8, 1983 Avery Fisher Hall Larry Newland Håkan Hagegård, baritone

Symphony No. 5 Oct. 11, 1983+ Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta Philip Myers, horn

Symphony No. 10 [Cooke] Jan. 5, 6+, 7, 10, 1984 Avery Fisher Hall Kurt Sanderling

Symphony No. 2 Jan. 12, 13, l4+, 17, 1984 Avery Fisher Hall Leonard Bernstein Barbara Hendricks, soprano Jessye Norman, soprano The Choir of St. Patrick's

Cathedral 194 New Amsterdam Singers

Symphony No. 10 [Cooke] Jan. 20, 24, 1984 Avery Fisher Hall Kurt Sanderling

Das Lied von der Erde Feb. 2, 3, 4, 7, 1984+ Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta Brigitte Fassbaender, mezzo-soprano

Jon Frederick West, tenor

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. 2 Mar. 14, 1984+ (60th anniversary of Young People's Concerts)

Avery Fisher Hall Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 3 May 24+, 25, 26, 1984 Avery Fisher Hall Erich Leinsdorf Florence Quivar, mezzo-soprano New York Choral Artists Brooklyn Boys Chorus Philip Smith, posthorn

Symphony No. 5 Aug. 25, 1984 Seoul, Korea Aug. 27, 1984+

Taipei, Taiwan Sep. 5, 1984 Jakarta, Indonesia Sep. 17, 1984 Bombay, India Zubin Mehta Philip Myers, horn

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Sep. 14, 1984 Calcutta, India Zubin Mehta

1984-85

Symphony No. 5 Apr. 4, 5, 6, 9, 1985+ Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta Philip Myers, horn

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Apr. 8, 1985 Abyssinian Baptist Church,

Harlem, NY Zubin Mehta

Symphony No. 5 May 24, 1985 Avery Fisher Hall May 30, 1985+

London, England May 31, 1985 Frankfurt, Germany Jun. 2, 1985+ Munich, Germany Jun. 3, 1985 Berlin, Germany Jun. 6, 1985 Leipzig, Germany Jun. 11, 1985+ Vienna, Austria Jun. 13, 1985 Paris, France Jun. 19, 1985t Rome, Italy Jun. 22, 1985t Madrid, Spain Zubin Mehta Philip Myers, horn

1985-86

Symphony No. 7 Nov. 27, 29, 30, Dec. 3+, 1985

Avery Fisher Hall Leonard Bernstein

1986-87

Symphony No. 6 Oct. 23+, 24, 25, 1986 Avery Fisher Hall

Klaus Tennstedt

Kindertotenlieder Nov. 26+, 28, 29, 1986 Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta Marilyn Horne, mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 2: Mvt. V Dec. 15, 1986 (Carnegie Hall gala reopening) Carnegie Hall Zubin Mehta Benita Valente, soprano Marilyn Horne, mezzo-soprano New York Choral Artists

Symphony No. 2 Apr. 16, 17, 18 ,21 , 1987+ Avery Fisher Hall Leonard Bernstein Barbara Hendricks, soprano Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano The Westminster Symphonic

Choir

Symphony No. 3 May 28, 29, 30, 1987+ Avery Fisher Hall Giuseppe Sinopoli Florence Quivar, mezzo-soprano New York Choral Artists Brooklyn Boys' Chorus

Philip Smith, posthorn

1987-88

Symphony No. 1 Nov. 19, 20+, 21,24, 1987 Avery Fisher Hall Leonard Bernstein

Symphony No. 3 Nov. 25, 27, 28,

Dec. 1, 1987+ Avery Fisher Hall Leonard Bernstein Christa Ludwig, mezzo-soprano New York Choral Artists Brooklyn Boys' Chorus Philip Smith, posthorn

Symphony No. 10: Mvt. 1 [Cooke]

Das klagende Lied (incl. Waldmärchen)

Mar. 24, 25, 26, 1988+ Avery Fisher Hall James Conlon Ruth Falcon, soprano Florence Quivar, mezzo-soprano Timothy Jenkins, tenor Jake Gardner, baritone The Dessoff Symphonic Choir New York Choral Artists

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist + Radio broadcast date, no known copy * Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

195

Symphony No. 9

May 19, 20, 24, 1988+

Avery Fisher Hall

May 3 1 , 1988+

Leningrad, USSR

Jun. 4, 1988+

Moscow, USSR

Zubin Mehta

1988-89

Symphony No. 1 (with Blumine)

Sep. 29, 30, Oct. 1, 5

[television broadcast], 1988+

Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta

Symphony No. 4

Mar. 23, 24, 25, 28, 1989

Avery Fisher Hall

Yoel Levi

Benita Valente, soprano

Symphony No. 2

Mar. 30, 3 1 , Apr. 1,4, 1989

Avery Fisher Hall

Leonard Bernstein

Benita Valente, soprano

Wendy White, mezzo-soprano

New York Choral Artists

196

1989-90

Rückert Lieder: "Ich atmet' einen linden Duft"

"Ich bin der Welt abhanden

gekommen'

"Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder"

"Um Mitternacht"

"Liebst du um Schönheit"

"Ich bin der Welt abhanden

gekommen"

Sep. 20, 1989

Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta

Jessye Norman, soprano

Symphony No. 5

Sep. 22, 23, 26, Oct. 3, 1989

Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta

Philip Myers, horn

Symphony No. 7

May 31 , Jun. 1, 2, 1990

Avery Fisher Hall

Erich Leinsdorf

1990-91

Symphony No. 3

Sep. 14, 15, 18, 1990

Avery Fisher Hall

Zubin Mehta

Florence Quivar, soprano

Westminster Symphonic Choir

American Boychoir

Philip Smith, posthorn

Symphony No. 5: Mvt. 4 (Adagietto)

Oct. 16, 1990

(In memory of

Leonard Bernstein)

Avery Fisher Hall

Leonard Slatkin

Rückert Lieder:

"Ich bin der Welt abhanden

gekommen"

Nov. 14, 1990

("Remembering Lenny")

Carnegie Hall

James Levine

Christa Ludwig,

mezzo-soprano

Symphony No. 9

Apr. 18, 19, 20, 23, 1991

(In memory of Bruno Walter)

Avery Fisher Hall

Yoel Levi

Symphony No. 1

May 1, 1991

(Carnegie Hall centennial

festival)

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy * Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

Symphony No. 1

Lieder eines fahrenden

Gesellen

Apr. 23, 24, 25, 1992

Avery Fisher Hall

Kurt Masur

Håkan Hagegård, baritone

1992-93

Symphony No. 6

Oct. 29, 30, 31 , Nov. 3, 1992

Avery Fisher Hall

Zdenek Macal

Symphony No. 5

Jun. 10, 11, 12, 1993

Avery Fisher Hall

Leonard Slatkin

Philip Myers, horn

1993-94

Symphony No. 9

Mar. 31 , Apr. 1,2, 4, 1994

Avery Fisher Hall

Apr. 9, 1994

Greenvale, NY

May 30, 1994

Cathedral of St. John the

Divine, New York, NY

Jun. 3, 1994

Avery Fisher Hall

Jun. 2 1 , 1994

Taipei, Taiwan

Jul. 1,3, 1994

Tokyo, Japan

Kurt Masur

1994-95

Symphony No. 4

Mar. 16, 17, 1 8 , 2 1 , 1995

Avery Fisher Hall

Sir Colin Davis

Gillian Webster, soprano

Symphony No. 1

May 24 [television broadcast],

25, 26, 27, 1995

Avery Fisher Hall

Jun. 15, 1995

Birmingham, England

Jun. 18, 1995

Vienna, Austria

Jun. 23, 1995

Istanbul, Turkey

Kurt Masur

1995-96

Symphony No. 5

Feb. 15, 16, 17, 20, 1996

Avery Fisher Hall

Michael Tilson Thomas

Philip Myers, horn 197

Carnegie Hall

Zubin Mehta

Symphony No. 3: Mvt. 6

May 5, 1991

(Carnegie Hall centennial: In

memory of Leonard Bernstein)

Carnegie Hall

Zubin Mehta

Symphony No. 1

Jul. 2 1 , 1991

Cunningham Park, Queens, NY

Jul. 22, 1991

Central Park, New York, NY

Jul. 24, 1991

Prospect Park, Brooklyn, NY

Zdenek Macal

1991-92

Symphony No. 4

Mar. 4, 5, 6, 1992

Avery Fisher Hall

Andr é Previn

June Anderson, soprano

Symphony No. 4

Mar. 7, 10, 1992

Avery Fisher Hall

A n d r é Previn

Juliana Gondek, soprano

Symphony No. 6 Feb. 22, 23, 24, 27, 1996(100th anniversary of Dimitri Mitropouloss birth)

Avery Fisher Hall Daniele Gatti

1 9 9 6 - 9 7

Symphony No. 3 Jan. 9, 10, 11, 1997Avery Fisher Hall Zubin Mehta Florence Quivar, soprano

Women of the New York Choral Artists

American Boychoir Philip Smith, posthorn

1 9 9 7 - 9 8

Symphony No. 6 Jan. 2, 3, 5, 1998Avery Fisher Hall Valery Gergiev

Symphony No. 5 Mar. 18, 19, 20, 21 , 1998

Avery Fisher Hall Daniele Gatti Philip Myers, horn

Kindertotenlieder Apr. 30, May 1, 2, 5, 1998 Avery Fisher Hall Leonard Slatkin Dmitri Hvorostovsky, baritone

Symphony No. 1 Jul. 7, 9, 1998 Avery Fisher Hall Kurt Masur

Howard Keresey, Principal Librarian of the New York Philharmonic, 1944-71.

* Symphony Society Orchestra + Radio broadcast date, copy known to exist ++ Radio broadcast date, no known copy

198

Bruno Walter: Protector and Prophet

by ERIK RYDING

Bruno Wal te r a n d Gustav M a h l e r were col leagues a n d friends. No other 20 th

cen tury conductor cou ld c l a im comparab le i n t imacy w i th the last great Viennese

s y m p h o n i c composer. W h e n Wal t e r w e n t to H a m b u r g to serve as Mahler ' s

assistant ( 1 8 9 4 - 9 6 ) , the experience proved a tu rn ing point in his life. He had never

encountered a conductor or a composer endowed w i th such interpret ive insight and

imag ina t ion , such art ist ic in tegr i ty and genius . In 1 9 0 1 , Wal te r jo ined M a h l e r a t the Vienna

State Opera , where the two w o u l d work together unti l Mahler ' s depar ture for Amer ica late in

1 9 0 7 . T h e Viennese critics closely identif ied Walter 's conduc t ing style w i th Mahler ' s , some of

them offering d isparaging remarks on the y o u n g " M a h l e r imitator ," others heap ing praise on

Mahler ' s gifted protégé. M a h l e r p l ayed his works-in-progress for Wal te r on the p iano (Walter

Gustav Mahler, conductor-pianist Ossip Gabrilowitsch (background), and Bruno Walter in

200 Prague, 1908, on the occasion of the premiere of Mahler's Seventh Symphony.

played his for Mahler as well), and Walter was present at several premieres given by his friend

There is no doubt about Mahler's admiration for his younger colleague. Before leaving

Vienna, Mahler wrote to Walter: "I can think of no one by whom I feel myself so well

understood as by you, and I believe, too, that I've penetrated into the deep passages of your

soul." They continued to correspond with each other across the Atlantic and to meet when

Mahler returned to Europe. In 1909, Walter led a performance of Mahler's Third in Vienna,

scoring one of his earliest triumphs as a symphonic conductor. After Mahler's death in 1911,

he wrote a letter of condolence to Alma, assuring her that his "ardent love" for Mahler,

"which has warmed my very soul every day since I first met him, will be active on the path

that nature has chosen for me—as protector and prophet of his work."

For the most part, Walter remained true to his word. He gave the first performances of

Das Lied von der Erde (1911) and the Ninth Symphony (1912); he also led the Viennese

premiere of Mahler's Eighth Symphony (1912), a work he conducted to great acclaim on

several occasions. And he continued to perform and record Mahler's work to the end of his

life. True, he avoided two major works, the Seventh Symphony (which he hardly ever

performed) and the Sixth (which he seems never to have performed). Why he did so will

perhaps always be a mystery, but he expressed profound satisfaction when, during his tenure

as Musical Adviser to the New York Philharmonic, they appeared on the programs of his

colleague—another champion of Mahler—Dimitri Mitropoulos.

What did Walter bring to Mahler's works? Already in Vienna, Walter's conducting struck

listeners as being different from Mahler's, somewhat gentler, more lyrical—though his

interpretations were widely regarded as the closest to Mahler's own by people who had heard

both conductors at the podium. His collaborations with the New York Philharmonic

inspired some of his most forceful conducting, yet even those performances retain a

characteristic elegance, the phrases neatly tapering off, the loudest fortes never turning into

noise. He encouraged his players to breathe and inflect, urging them to "sing," but his

lyricism was often set off by intense, even feral drama. Walter's rubato—sometimes

meticulously worked out, sometimes the result of sudden inspiration—could produce

revelatory effects, and his attention to Mahler's counterpoint helped him to bring out

motives in danger of being buried in those huge scores. His is not the only way to conduct

Mahler, but at his best, Walter could give us the feeling of hearing a work for the first time.

Walter's first performances in New York were, perhaps surprisingly, not with the

Philharmonic but with Walter Damrosch's Symphony Society. On his first trip to the United

States in 1923, Walter played it safe and included no Mahler on the programs. If that seems

like cowardice on his part, we would do well to recall some of the unkind criticisms leveled

at Mahler's symphonies when Mahler himself conducted them in New York. Even in

Europe, the symphonies often received only coolly qualified praise. In any case, at his second

guest appearance with the Symphony Society, in 1924, Walter ventured to offer the public

Mahler's First Symphony—a fairly accessible work. Nevertheless, some New York critics

made their hostility to the Symphony abundantly clear. The reviewer for the Musical

Courier, in an extraordinarily condescending notice, had anticipated the argument that

audiences needed plenty of time to familiarize themselves with new music and responded

accordingly. "Some people, Mahler adherents, argue that it takes time for a great work to

become known," the critic wrote. "Perhaps. But when one stops to think of the other works

written about the same time that have become favorites, the argument fails to convince. . . .

Whatever the reason that Mahler is not oftener played, it is not a matter merely of time. 202

203

Lack of ideas seems to explain it, and perhaps also excessive length, which will kill any work,

however beautiful." Another New York critic lauded Walter's conducting from his earliest

American concerts onward, while loathing Mahler's music to the very end. Already a veteran

reviewer in Boston, Olin Downes came to New York in 1924 to write for The New York

Times. His invectives against Mahler's music continued long after the other critics had

discovered that acceptance of Mahler's music was indeed "a matter merely of time."

The New York Philharmonic first played under Walter's baton in 1932; by then the

conductor was determined to keep Mahler in the Orchestra's repertoire. He offered the Fifth

Symphony this time, and Downes's review was astonishingly headlined, "Walter Triumphs

in Mahler." The "triumph," however, referred to Walter's performance of Schubert's

"Unfinished," the other work on the program, not to Mahler at all. But Mahler's symphony

was hardly neglected in the review. Downes anatomized it at great length, his abuse

increasing with each new paragraph. Mahler's "musical ideas, in nine cases out of ten," he

wrote, "are banal, and they do not fructify. They do not develop, exfoliate." Maddening

words. Brilliant thematic development is, as listeners have long since come to appreciate, one

of Mahler's outstanding compositional virtues.

In 1933—a grim year for Germany and its neighbors—Walter offered the

"Resurrection" to New York. The performance, which Victor had agreed to record, should

have been preserved as Walter's first album with the Philharmonic, but for some reason, a

recording was never issued. After the concert, Walter noted with pleasure the "enthusiasm

and emotion" that Mahler's Second had generated in the audience; the reviews, however,

were again mixed. The performance won accolades, but the piece itself suffered some harsh

criticism. Lawrence Gilman of the New York Herald Tribune, though not a rabid Mahler

hater like Downes, couldn't refrain from remarking that, while the conception of the piece

was "moving and immense," the composer lacked "a musical imagination commensurate

with his visions, his ecstasies, his aspirations." Das Lied, with Maria Olszewska and Frederick

Jagel, was among Walter's musical offerings to New York in 1934, and for this work, at least,

the critics showed some signs of relenting. Downes grudgingly acknowledged the expressive

depth of the final pages of the "Abschied" ("among the most genuinely poetical and

distinguished passages in all Mahler"), while Gilman now referred to "the passion and

beauty of the music, its delicate fantasy, its secret ecstasies and insuperable grief, and, at the

last, its mystical, assuaging peace," which, under Walter, "were often overmastering."

Commitments in Vienna and elsewhere kept Walter away from New York for several years,

but the spread of the Nazi plague in the late 1930s eventually drove him back to the United

States. He resumed his work with the New York Philharmonic in 1941, offering performances

of Mahler almost every season until 1957, when a heart attack slowed down his concert

appearances. The works by Mahler that he performed most often were the First, the Second,

the Fourth, and Das Lied, though in 1945 he presented a work never before played by the

Philharmonic—a work he had premiered in Vienna. Some resistance to the Ninth Symphony

was inevitable, yet it still comes as a shock to read Olin Downes's excoriating review of the

Philharmonic's first performance of this sublime work: "There is a degree of ostentation in this

music which would be funny if it were not so vulgar. There are the prevalent megalomania and

blatant rhetoric of the romantic decadence, wherein the faults are exaggerated to the point of

the grotesque." And so on. But others recognized that this was a major musical statement;

"there is so much impassioned music in its hour and twenty minutes," Irving Kolodin observed,

"that unfamiliarity with it leaves a definite gap in one's orientation to music of this century." 206 207

Walter was Musical Advisor to the New York Philharmonic for two seasons (1947-49),

and during that time Dimitri Mitropoulos led two important Mahler performances.

Already in the early 1920s, during his student days in Berlin, Mitropoulos had deeply

admired Walter's interpretations, and Walter, for his part, wrote in 1948 that Mitropoulos's

"activity" was, "by its great artistic and moral meaning, a necessity in the musical life of

New York." Nevertheless, their mutual affection for Mahler sometimes led to awkward

moments, as when Mitropoulos gave the first American performance of Mahler's Sixth in

1947. While delighted that his younger colleague had scheduled the Sixth, Walter harbored

serious doubts about the other piece to appear on the program, Gershwin's Piano Concerto,

with Oscar Levant as soloist. " . . . I strongly must plead against the combination of this

work with Mahler's Sixth Symphony in one program," Walter wrote to Bruno Zirato. "On

the list of works which Mr. Mitropoulos has chosen, I see many pieces which go far better

with Gershwin than just Mahler's most tragic opus. . . ."

The Gershwin Concerto remained on the program and, to Mitropoulos's bitter

disappointment, was one of the pieces that replaced Mahler's Symphony on the Sunday

broadcast. In 1948, Mitropoulos conducted the Seventh Symphony, a work that hadn't been

heard in New York since Mengelberg's performance in 1923. After hearing that Mitropoulos

wanted to place Mahler's Seventh on the second half of the program, to allow those who didn't

care for Mahler to flee the auditorium, Walter asked Zirato to tell Mitropoulos that he had "the

opposite policy, putting the problematic work in the middle of the program and leaving the

conclusion to the soloist, thus compelling the audience to stay and listen to the work in

question." Doing so, incidentally, would have entailed the unpleasant task of requesting the

soloist to perform after the audience had heard more than an hour's worth of Mahler.

One of the ugliest clashes between the two conductors occurred in 1949, when both had

planned to conduct Mahler's First during the 1949-50 season. On learning that Mitropoulos

had scheduled the work, Walter turned livid. "I cannot help expressing my great astonishment

at Mr. Mitropoulos' intention to perform Mahler's First symphony in the same season as I am

going to do it," he wrote to Zirato. "I want you to be sure that I would not have dreamed of

preceding any work on Mr. Mitropoulos' program with a performance of the same one in one

of my concerts during the time of my activity as musical adviser. . . . Mr. Mitropoulos will

understand my attitude with regard to Mahler and that it is important for me to play this

work." It was important for Mitropoulos, too, of course. But this time Walter had his way.

At his last public appearance with the New York Philharmonic, in 1960, Walter performed

Das Lied von der Erde, with Maureen Forrester and Richard Lewis as his soloists. He had given

the world premiere and had performed it on many subsequent occasions. (The young Leonard

Bernstein, on his drive to Boston, tuned in to the 1948 broadcast of Das Lied with Ferrier and

Svanholm; he wrote to Walter afterwards: "It was certainly one of the great musical experiences

I have had. You are a very, very great master. And the Manfred brought back vivid memories

of 1943, and that fateful Sunday!"—that is, the performance when Walter fell ill and Bernstein

suddenly found himself conducting his New York Philharmonic debut.) By 1960, the reviews

were uniformly glowing. Walter's concert ended the first Mahler Festival by the Orchestra—

itself a sign that Mahler had won over the city—and the "Abschied," with a poignant aptness,

became Walter's own farewell to the New York Philharmonic. •

Erik Ryding produced the premiere recording of Walter's Violin Sonata, performed by the Orfeo Duo,

for VAI Audio. With Rebecca Pechefsky he is writing a biography of Walter for Schirmer Books. 209 208

Mitropoulos, Walter, and Mahler:

A Player's Perspective by JAMES CHAMBERS

When Dimitri Mitropoulos strode onto the stage of Carnegie Hall to begin

the first rehearsal of Mahler's Fifth Symphony on the morning of

December 28, 1959, there was palpable excitement in the Orchestra. It

had been 13 years since Bruno Walter had led the New York

Philharmonic in highly acclaimed performances of this massive work. An excellent record-

ing had been made at that time, one which had won a critics' award for Best Classical

Recording of the Year (1947) and was reissued in LP format in 1952. Many in the Orchestra,

First-desk players of the New York Philharmonic brass section, circa 1958: (left to right)

James Chambers and Joseph Singer, horns; Edward Herman, Jr., trombone;

210 William Vacchiano, trumpet; William Bell, tuba.

and presumably many members of the audiences that were to hear the four performances

later in the week, remembered Bruno Walter's interpretation from those earlier performances

or had become familiar with it through the recording.

Would these Mitropoulos performances measure up to the memorable ones of Bruno

Walter? Could they possibly equal their well-remembered warmth and grandeur or have

their stamp of authenticity? Even the musicians of the Orchestra were unable to assess the

full impact until the first of the four performances had ended. By the close of the last, audi-

ences and musicians alike were aware that another high point had been reached in the

unfolding history of Mahler performances at the Philharmonic. The Fifth Symphony did

not receive a complete Philharmonic performance until it was programmed by Willem

Mengelberg in December 1926 and repeated during the following season. (Josef Stransky

had offered only the first movement, Trauermarsch, in November 1911, as a memorial trib

ute to Mahler.) Bruno Walter, Mahler's friend, disciple, and fervent champion, conducted

the Fifth Symphony for the first time with the Philharmonic during his initial appearances

as a guest conductor in 1932.

Except for a pair of performances of the Adagietto under John Barbirolli in October

1939, the Fifth Symphony was not heard again by Philharmonic audiences until Bruno

Walter conducted it in 1947. I myself was then a fledgling member of the Orchestra, and I

reveled in my first exposure to this complex work as revealed by Walter. He stressed the lyric

elements of the Symphony to a much greater degree than did the great Mahler conductor

who followed him. His continual pleas for beautiful sound ("I am not happy—do what you

can for this place"), his attention to dynamics ("Gentlemen, give me my diminuendo"), and

his singing style ("Gentlemen, there is not enough zinging in") brought forth performances

notable for their tonal beauty and lyric grace.

Clearly Walter wished to emphasize the broad, flowing lines of the work and was not

solely intent on strict adherence to Mahler's many detailed indications concerning dynam­

ics and tempo. Mahler's tempo markings are very elaborate and specific; for example, plötz­

lich schneller, leidenschaftlich, sehr vehement, wild ("suddenly fastet," "passionate," "very vehe­

ment," "wild"). Often, as in the Fifth, they were an indication not only of tempo but of the

style and character of a particular passage. In addition, his scores contain many emphatic

footnotes addressed to the conductor concerning the best method of achieving the desired

effect. For example, in the Funeral March Mahler exhorts the conductor to insist that the

violins play loudly and forcefully throughout a particularly boisterous passage lest they be

lost beneath the high level of sound emanating from the entire orchestra. Walter's de-empha­

sis of these rather detailed instructions tended to soften some of the unique effects which,

when strictly enforced, lend a neurotic quality to much of Mahler's writing.

Mitropoulos was also a dedicated Mahlerite and brought with him a background of other

memorable Mahler performances. There was, for example, his ground-breaking recording of

the First Symphony with the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra in 1940, and additional per­

formances of the First with the New York Philharmonic in 1941 and with the Philadelphia

Orchestra at Robin Hood Dell in 1944. As the solo horn player of the Philadelphia Orchestra

at that time, I was fascinated, indeed almost mesmerized, by the raw intensity and passion of

Mitropoulos's interpretation. I'm afraid, however, that Philadelphia audiences in the hot,

mosquito-filled, oppressive atmosphere of Robin Hood Dell were not then as receptive to this

unaccustomed summer fare of Mahler's music as they would be today.

I remember also the exciting American premiere of Mahler's Sixth Symphony by the 212 213

214

Philharmonic under Mitropoulos in 1947. In the collective memory of members of the

Philharmonic, those performances of the Sixth loom large. The work had a lightening-bolt

impact on the Orchestra—and on audiences as well. There was a remarkable conformity in

style between composer and conductor, and it was against this background of notable

Mahler performances that Mitropoulos's reading of the Fifth was anticipated with such

eagerness when it was announced that it would be on the inaugural program of the

Philharmonic's now historic Mahler Festival in the 1959-60 season. Subsequent concerts in

the festival were to include Symphonies Nos. 1, 2, 3, 9, 10 (Adagio), Das Lied von der Erde,

Kindertotenlieder, and various songs.

The sense of anticipation and excitement during Mitropoulos's rehearsals of the Fifth car­

ried over into the performances so strongly that those who experienced them will never for­

get their intensity and fervor.

As a Philharmonic player, I had found virtually all of Mitropoulos's interpretations, in

any repertoire, to be imbued with a strong sense of drama and vivid theatrical awareness.

Nowhere was this more evident than in his Mahler. His proclivity for making a musical point

by overstatement fitted rather neatly into Mahler's frequent and abrupt changes of mood,

dynamics, tempo, and so on. Mahler was particularly fond of marking tempo changes by

preceding them with the work plötzlich ("sudden") and, similarly, of making sudden changes

of dynamics without any intermediate crescendo or diminuendo. Mitropoulos delighted in

Dimitri Mitropoulos, Musical Director of the New York Philharmonic from 1950 to 1958,

during a 1950 rehearsal.

these abrupt changes and spent much rehearsal time in preparing such places for maximum

effect. A master of the art of subito, he strove to emphasize all these shifts so that their delib

erate nature would be made evident to the listener.

This was in sharp contrast with Bruno Walter's somewhat more genial approach, in

which the lyric flow of the music rather than its changing character had been stressed.

Mitropoulos, with his tendency to exalt the details of a particular passage, was nor reticent

about interpreting some sections of militaristic march music with brute severity or, on the

other hand, highlighting or even exaggerating sentimental passages.

Mitropoulos worked quite hard during rehearsals to achieve the quality of performance

expected of the New York Philharmonic. Rehearsals were often extremely exciting but they

could be extremely trying as well, for Mitropoulos was not an acknowledged master of con

ducting technique. Often, he used his hands to express the emotional content of slow,

expressive music, with only slight regard for maintaining a well-defined rhythmic pulse.

Pizzicatos were always a hazard! As a wind player, I often marveled at the ability of the

string sections to play them together when he was conducting. Mitropoulos's attention was

often focused on other details of phrasing, such as dynamic shadings or expressive rubatos,

and, consequently, in such places he occasionally failed to provide that most important

requirement for precise ensemble—a clear, explicit beat. Frustration was sometimes felt in

orchestra and conductor alike, and much rehearsal time was spent bringing such passages

to a state of concert readiness. On the other hand, in faster, more energetic music which

had strong, rhythmic vitality, Mitropoulos was a master with few equals. His rhythm was

unshakable even in music of terrifying complexity. Passages with rapidly changing meters

216 posed no problems for him and, indeed, stimulated him to the point where his excitement

was transmitted to the Orchestra, which then became as a single performer with him. The

thrust that developed was awesome.

Mitropoulos loved the sound of horns and would frequently implore the horn section to

play more loudly. There were times when it seemed to the players that a louder level would

force the tone to the point of ugliness. Naturally, they did not wish to distort the tone, but

endeavored nonetheless to provide Mitropoulos with the level of volume he asked for.

One morning Mitropoulos began a rehearsal with a short speech directed to the horn

section, approximately as follows: "I must apologize to the horns. [Puzzled laughter from the

Orchestra.] No, I am serious. I am always asking them to play more, but some good friends,

whose opinions I respect, tell me that the horns are often too loud. So, horns, if I ask for

more please don't do it. [More laughter.] I really mean it. I know I will get excited and ask

for more, but you must resist." What an impossible assignment! We all made a great effort

to comply, but it is very difficult to deny the impassioned pleas of a conductor who in the

excitement of performance has forgotten his own admonition.

Mitropoulos, on the podium, might almost have represented the embodiment of

Mahler's spirit. Indeed, there were striking similarities in their natures. Both men were total­

ly absorbed in their art, with little attention or interest given to facets of life dear to most

others. Both were men of spirit who sought the deeper meanings of life. Both were religious

men—but in the last analysis, their religion was music. •

James Chambers (d. 1989) was Principal Horn of the New York Philharmonic from 1946 to

1969 and served as the Orchestra's Personnel Manager from 1969 to 1986. This essay first

appeared in the Philharmonic's special edition Radiothon Record, 1981. 217

Bernstein's Late-Night Thoughts

on Mahler by JACK GOTTLIEB

Leonard Bernstein regarded the flyleaves of the books he read as blank canvases for

poetry, musings, and other annotations. Appraising V. S. Pritchett's tales On the

Edge of the Cliff, Bernstein writes: "I do admire people who have the patience to

be in a Pritchett story. . . ." Or, on an edition of King Lear. "L's 'mid-life crisis

occurs at age 80. Hence, paranoia, need to be loved (bottomless well) and to have love

constantly proven visibly and orally. . . ." But often the flyleaf comments are not related to

the book on hand. They are, instead, aperçus that range from the philosophical (the

218 aesthetics of a pet dog's lifted paw) to the practical (which assistant conductor to choose for

Israel?); from tongue-in-cheek verse ("O Dryden is dry / Auden is odd . . .") to high-flown

poetry ("Bough-armed in the dark we lie / Craving the down-rush, in-spring, out-cry . . . " ) .

"here are anagrammatic word games, lists, gestating ideas about works-in-progress, political

statements (". . . I want everyone to live, and live undeformed, well-fed, unpoisoned . . . " ) ,

epigrams ("I am thinking: 'I am thinking'"), autobiographical irony ("Whaddya get from a

cigarette . . . What's the answer? Cancer.").

If books were the target of his jottings, it was inconceivable that Bernstein could resist the

flyleaves, as well as the interior pages, of his conducting scores. Now stored in the archives of

the New York Philharmonic, these offer a cornucopia of insights for musical laypersons and

scholars alike. As with the books, they reveal Bernstein's comedic and erudite gifts. The

meticulously inscribed scores, mostly in red and blue pencil, provide a vivid window into the

working mind of the conductor. Red markings were directives to librarians to copy into parts;

blue ones were aide-memoires for the conductor, some of which also went into parts. If there

as a change of mind or subsequent additions, Bernstein brought attention to them by putting

red X in the margin; once incorporated into the parts, these would be circled in blue.

But there is much more. Two-bar phrases are indicated by a pyramid-shaped mark, three-bar

phrases by a curve (a practice learned from Koussevitzky), six-bar phrases are indicated by a 5 in

the penultimate bar linked with a flourish to a 6 in the last (groupings essential to grasping the

formal structure); long and short slashes show subdivisions of the beat; Germanic-style

abbreviations are used for entrances—for example, K for clarinets (Klarinetten), P for Trombones

Posaunen), so as not to confuse a C with Contrabassoon or a T for Trumpets—plus various other

symbols (wavy lines, arrows) for new entrances, changes in articulation, dynamics, divisis,

bowings (!), and so on: in other words, the full arsenal of tools fashioned by a master maestro. 219

It is Bernstein's Mahler Symphonic Partituren that engage us here, and they are a

godsend. After all, both men were composer-conductors of the New York Philharmonic,

both faith-seekers who sought and thought on a large scale. The following selected

ruminations by Bernstein on the Mahler scores must be regarded as spur-of-the-moment

jottings. The author certainly would have scrupulously edited such spontaneous

outpourings for publication. The following passages are almost verbatim transcriptions,

though abbreviations have been expanded, translations provided, and minor adjustments

made for the sake of clarity.

Symphony No. 2, page 185

Mahler's tide for the Finale: Grosse Appell ( "The Roll-Call" or "The Call to Judgment") is

irresistible fodder for Bernstein, who writes below it:

Big Apple

(Incidentally, the often irreverent puns that musicians sometimes write into their parts

about each other, the music, and the conductor could, at the least, qualify for a series of

internet joke lists.) 220

A visual kind of pun is established when Bernstein signals for the chorus to stand on

Mahler's verse:

Was vergangen, auferstehen! ("All that perished, rise again!" page 195)

Symphony No. 4, flyleaf

The flyleaf is dated June 30, 1987, and Bernstein dashes off a musical ditty with

underlaid words:

We didn't sell out in Oslo, We didn't sell out the h a l l . . . Etc.

It never was wise to inform Bernstein before a performance on those rare occasions that there

was not a full house. Sometimes, as in the Oslo program, on tour with the Concertgebouw

in Europe, he could joke about it, but with a tinge of bitterness.

(Researchers will be fascinated by the markings, in green and red ink, in one of

Bernstein's non-conducting copies of the Fourth Symphony; the markings—added by 221

Universal Edition, the publisher—record Mahler's own orchestral revisions. Another

intriguing set of revisions may be observed on the score of the First Symphony, which

includes a copyist's paste-ups, with carefully drawn-in staves and notes.)

Symphony No. 5, flyleaf

Rage-hostility. Sublimation by Mahler and hearer.

I. Angry bitter sorrow mixed with sad comforting lullabies—

rocking a corpse.

II. Outburst of rage—more """"public" version of private feelings in 1. Ends

with teeth still clenched, despite occasional hints of ultimate glory and

salvation (choral, marches).

III. To hell with it—lets get drunk—A ball.

Symphony No. 6

Taped across the first two pages of the score, in bold colors, we find a b u m p e r sticker:

M A H L E R G R O O V E S

Since strings and percussion are playing lower down the first page, only empty bars arc

covered up. A light touch, to be sure; bu t there on the flyleaf, Bernstein's more profound and

222 private observations n o w can be shared with us:

Mahler: opera symphonica. (#6 most operatic of all, perhaps because purely

instrumental; yet finale resembles #2 (recitative, hammer. . . .). Basic elements

(including clichés) of German music (Mozart-Schubert; Beethoven-Brahms; Liszt-

Wagner; also Italian opera, etc.?) driven to their furious ultimate power. Result:

neurotic intensity, irony, extreme sentimentalism, despair (that it can't go even further),

apocalyptic radiance, shuddering silence, vokanic Auftaken [sic; Auftakt = "upbeat"],

gasping Luftpausen ["breathingspots"], titanic accents achieved by every means (sonic

and tonic), ritards stretched to near-motionlessness, dynamics over-refined and

exaggerated to a point of neurasthenia, marches like a heart attack, old-fashioned 4-bar

phrases punctuated in brass and fire, cadences that bless like the moment when an

excruciating pain suddenly ceases.

The operatic Mahler: obviously so. Lieder origins, dramatic structure. Curtain-raising

preludes, interludes, magnitude, intensity, vocality, Theatre, climaxes, etc.

Pagliacci

Traviata (#6), Aida (#2)

Tristan überall.

Alas, Das Lied not here: the commentary on all 9 symphonies (Footnote re #10).

On page 12, upper left corner:

From here on: major/minor alternation becomes harmonically thematic, integrated

into the fabric of the harmony as common usage, like tonic/subdominant, etc. 223

Symphony No. 9, flyleaf

The refined beauties of ambiguity.

The obsessiveness of artistic creation. (How many Ländler, Wagnerian adagios, self-

quotes, funeral "Kondukts" [i.e., corteges] can one man produce?).

Obsessiveness caused by urge to produce the perfect form ofhis "vision." If he had lived,

he might have tried 9 more times.

224

On the reverse side:

On page 175: Bernstein points out a self-quotation by Mahler from his 8th Symphony:

"Mutter! Jungfrau!" [the Virgin Mary].

On the rear flyleaf the conductor writes out in long hand all the Mahlerian printed tempo

instructions: Adagissimo, langsam, zögernd, aüsserst langsam, ritard. These outer extremes of

slowness are seriously taken to heart by Bernstein, who writes on the last page:

225

I. Death of tenderness and tonality II. Death of simplicity (innocence) III. Death of society

IV. Letting go (death of resistance, clinging to life)

Have the courage to remain in 8!

The lapidary precision of Bernstein's markings reveals his keen eye for detail, which

inevitably overflowed into keen listening experiences. He labored endless hours in

preparation; and the remarkably glossed conducting scores Bernstein has left behind are a

treasure-trove for future generations to dip into, to benefit therefrom, and to be healed by

the sheer beauty of his calligraphy. •

© 1998 by Jack Gottlieb

Leonard Bernstein's quotations © 1998, the Estate of Leonard Bernstein. Used by permission

of Amberson, Inc.

Composer-author Jack Gottlieb began his long association with Leonard Bernstein in 1958,

when Bernstein became Music Director of the New York Philharmonic. In 1965, Gottlieb

recorded the series of tone-rows, by Schoenberg and others, that alert audiences at Philharmonic

concerts, making him the only composer in history to be heard at every program in Avery Fisher

Hall! He is currently at work on a book entitled Funny, It Doesn't S o u n d Jewish

(How Yiddish Songs a n d S y n a g o g u e M e l o d i e s Influenced A m e r i c a n Popular M u s i c ) .

227 226

Above: Leonard Bernstein in Philharmonic Hall at Lincoln Center.

Overleaf: Leonard Bernstein's conducting score for Mahler's Symphony No. 6.

Mahler at the New York Philharmonic:

The Players Remember Interviews by ROBERT SHERMAN

"Mahler was our composer-in-residence for the last 90 years."

Rainier de Intinis, horn, 1950-93

I felt the Mahler lineage very much. It was as though it was our music, and Mahler our

composer in residence for the last 90 years.

There is fiery emotion deep in Mahler's music. It doesn't require overblown emotion from

the conductor. My favorites were Mitropoulos, who had such understanding of Mahler and a

wonderful freedom of dialogue, and Walter, whose straightforward, down-the-line honesty

seemed to me more like what Mahler himself would have wanted. It was beautiful—non

The players' locker room at Carnegie Hall; Ranier de Intinis

230 is pictured in the center, holding a suitcase.

episodic, the lines connected, he caught its full sweep. Boulez, too, was able to connect the var-

ious episodes. Many conductors go through a theme, drop away, then come back with anoth­

er theme; Mitropoulos, Walter, and Boulez all maintained a good, continuous line throughout.

"I was in at the beginning."

William Vacchiano, trumpet, 1935-73

Almost every orchestra that comes through New York includes a Mahler Symphony. But

I feel very proud and happy that I was in at the beginning, because Mahler was not at

all well known when I joined the Philharmonic in 1935. It was Bruno Walter who set the

pace. In fact, every conductor who does Mahler today has Walter to thank. We played most­

ly standard pieces in those days—Beethoven and Mozart with half an orchestra—and all of

a sudden, Mahler comes in, and it was like going from a tea party to a tempest. That tremen­

dous orchestra, with double trumpet section and double horns and so on—it was really

thrilling. As time goes on, things change, but Walter started it all. He was very quiet in per­

son—we used to call him "The Pope," because he walked on so slowly—but when he con­

ducted he had a lot of fire. Walter had the right temperament for Mahler. I think he is

responsible for the Mahler era. He certainly contributed more to it than anybody else until

Lenny. Nobody compares with him.

I was 22 years old when I joined the Philharmonic, but many of the other players had

actually played under Mahler. Mahler, of course, was not nearly so important then as he is

now, so they didn't talk about him too much. But they did tell me that he was very strict and

somewhat sarcastic too. The players also told me that Mahler had many emotional problems.

He couldn't sleep nights—on the road he kept the manager up half the night walking around

with him—and he was always afraid of dying.

"Walter was always carried away in Mahler's music."

David Kates, viola, 1933-76

Bruno Walter had a wonderful relationship with Mahler's music, and he was always car­

ried away when he conducted it. He was a very quiet fellow offstage, but when it came

to the climaxes in Mahler, he was shaking and shivering and trembling; his whole body was

moving in ecstasy. At rehearsals, he always kept asking the Orchestra to be quiet. If he was

working with one section, and other players were whispering or talking, he'd turn to them,

with a little twist of his right hand and his finger pointed upwards, as though he were giv­

ing a lecture, and say, "Gentlemen, give me my silence." I once drew a little caricature in my

folder: It was a gravestone, with the words, "Here Lies Bruno Walter: Give Me My Silence."

"You can't be glued to the page in Mahler."

Glenn Dicterow, concertmaster, 1980-

Mehta was tremendously special in Mahler. He allowed himself the freedom to mold the

Orchestra much more so than he did with other composers. The difference in inter­

pretation between him and Lenny was like night and day, but both were very rewarding. Zubin

managed to translate the music a little bit more exactly, to be a little more focussed than Lenny.

You had be in a proper frame of mind to appreciate Lenny because it was so exuberant and so 232 233

exaggerated, [even though] he managed to make it work. Zubin was amazing so far as getting

the job done. He approached the music very broadly, yet made it extremely exciting.

I think Mahler takes a lot more freedom of thought; you can't be glued to the page, you

can't be myopic in your approach. When you listen to the old Walter recordings, which are

astounding in certain respects, they seem to have very conservative tempos, to be classically

put together. Where Zubin would be stretching tempos, exaggerating nuances, Walter was

a lot more straightforward. I think you have to be less concerned with authenticity when

you bring such monstrous works to the stage, and Bernstein and Mehta did a far more con­

vincing job than I get from the older recordings. After all, the further we get from the age

of Mahler, the less strict you need to be. It's the same way with Bach.

Zubin and Lenny weren't afraid to take chances, to exaggerate things, to highlight the

characteristics of what Mahler was trying to say. The first time I played Mahler under Lenny,

the orchestral sound was magic—the first few bars, incredibly together, with such depth and

intensity. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. You need a larger-than-life personality to

bring Mahler across, because the music's so free and open.

" W e d i d feel t h a t w e h a d b e c o m e M a h l e r special is ts o f a s o r t . "

Nathan Stutch, cello, 1946-89

We played an enormous amount of Mahler over the years because of Bernstein, so we

had an affinity for the music. After playing so many performances with so many dif­

ferent conductors, we did feel that we had become specialists of a sort.

234 Bruno Walter's approach was more reserved, with an almost painful quality, as though

he identified with the type of inner torture that comes through in Mahler's music. Walter

was very meticulous about the way he approached Mahler, in terms of adhering specifically

to the markings, and always keeping within certain parameters. I appreciated that restraint;

his Mahler was never overblown.

Mitropoulos was more Bernstein-like, very emotional, but the marvel was his memory.

No matter how long the work was, he never used a score, and would pull things out of his

head—". . . 13 measures before letter R, where the oboe takes the lead . . ."—and sure

enough he would be right there.

" I e n j o y l i s t en ing t o M a h l e r m u c h m o r e t h a n I d i d p l a y i n g i t ."

Paige Brook, flute, 1952-88

Kubelik was one of my favorites—one of the few conductors who felt that the compos­

er was more important than he was. At the time, Mahler was not one of my favorites,

but I came to love [the music] more the longer I stayed in the Orchestra. Some conductors

are very good when there's a lot of traffic, and Mitropoulos was like that. So often in Mahler,

it's like an intersection with ten roads coming in, and he could steer us through beautifully.

Mehta also had a really clear stick technique, and that's needed in Mahler.

I enjoy listening to Mahler much more than I did playing it. The music is too schizophrenic

for me: Mahler gets going in a beautiful fashion, then abruptly veers off on another tangent.

It's better when I don't have to worry about counting, ensemble intonation, and other crafts­

manship details. In the Orchestra I couldn't really listen to the music as a whole: From my seat,

the brass was a mile way, the violas right in front, so that's the way we heard it. 235

Music Director Zubin Mehta in 1979, with Philip Smith, Principal Trumpet,

and Glenn Dicterow, Concertmaster. 237

"Barbirolli did Mahler beautifully, with guts and lots of feeling."

Albert Goltzer, oboe, 1938-84

Lenny was fantastic, even if you didn't agree with his conducting technique. He had a feel for

Mahler, no question about it. When we played Mahler with him the first time in Vienna,

the headline next day said "Mahler Comes Back to Vienna." Bruno Walter had a much milder

approach, more pedantic. His personality was completely different from what I get out of Mahler's

music. Mahler was evidently a very fiery, passionate guy, and Walter was low-key all the time.

Mitropoulos was on the emotional side like Lenny, and he could bring out the feeling,

the excitement of the music, the emotion that is so important a part of Mahler. His stick

technique was not very good—he'd give a downbeat with all five fingers rotating—but in

Mahler it didn't matter very much.

Barbirolli was a wonderful guy and a marvelous musician. He did Mahler beautifully. It

was almost English and Italian, as he was, so it had guts and lots of feeling.

"Mrs. Mahler sat in the third row at rehearsals."

Leonard Davis, viola, 1949-91

never experienced anything like the Second Symphony under Bruno Walter. We were in

Carnegie Hall, and when the choral entrance came, from the back of the orchestra, I never

236

heard anything like it in my life. You could just hear air moving, with sort of a pitch. It was

the most unearthly experience you could imagine, and as it grew and grew and filled the hall

up to the ceiling. It was really spectacular.

It also was impressive to see Mrs. Mahler sitting in the third row at the rehearsals. Walter

would go down to her at the breaks, and they had conferences and he wrote down notes for

himself. If you listened carefully, you could hear the conversations in German: "Do you

remember this, do you recall that?" She came very often to Mahler rehearsals. She was a very

handsome-looking woman, as was Walter, even at an advanced age. It has stayed very vivid

in my memory.

Another striking memory is of Stokowski conducting Mahler's Eighth Symphony. I

think it was his last performance with the Philharmonic before he officially left, and on

Sunday afternoon we did the Eighth with the enormous chorus and brass players all over

the hall, including three trumpets in the center of the top balcony. Stoki was not beyond

showing his profile, hair, and hands to the audience, and towards the end, when everything

was building to a tremendous climax with the chorus and the brasses in various parts of the

hall, with a great flourish, he turned and with his left hand out, faced the trumpet players

in the top balcony. Meanwhile, his right hand dragged itself across the score, and he turned

several pages by mistake. We were within a minute or two of the end when he looked back

at the score and tried to unravel the puzzle, turning the pages back and forth. He never real­

ly did find his place, but he continued making a big show of everything, and finished the

Symphony by ear, as it were. It could have been a catastrophe, but we played it, and Stoki

went on looking his best and put on a great act, and it was all very successful. The audience

didn't know all this, of course, but up front in the string section we saw it clearly. I guess if

you're going to get lost, you might as well choose a place where the orchestra can carry on

by itself.

238 I remember Tennstedt being very fiery with Mahler, sort of a dragon when he got excit­

ed, frothing at the mouth and breathing steam. It was almost more of a celebration of

excitement. It didn't happen in rehearsals, with all the stops and starts, but the momen-

turn of a concert let him build up a real head of steam. At least with Mahler you have

enough room and time to expand. He was superactive, but he was an excellent musician,

and I think he loved Mahler beyond anything else. That came through in the way he

approached the orchestra. The players in the Philharmonic, and any other major league

orchestra, give 100 percent without any prodding from the podium; in this case, even

after we got up to full sail, he was up there asking us for that much more. I think a lot of

that kind of super-conducting, the flailing of arms and so on, was simply his own enjoy­

ment of the performance. It wasn't anything layered on, it was honest; that's how he felt

it, and he just couldn't restrain himself.

"There's b e e n a r e v o l u t i o n in t h e w a y M a h l e r i s d o n e . "

Jacques Margolies, violin, 1942-46; 1964-

Lenny was a good Mahler conductor and so was Tennstedt. The intensity could be

exhausting, but they had a certain way of getting themselves so deeply into the music

that it came across to us. Bruno Walter was completely different, very laid back and relaxed.

Walter, of course, was a protégé of Mahler, and if that's the way Mahler wanted his sym­

phonies done, there's been a revolution in the way they're done today, with that sheer inten­

sity and drama. In fact, even the tempos were different. I guess people weren't quite so wild

back then. Walter's pacing was very different from what we get today, yet it worked.

239

"Thi s o r c h e s t r a t rea t s M a h l e r in a special w a y . "

Thomas Stacy, English horn, 1972-

Because of the closeness of the Philharmonic with Mahler, going back to when he was the

Music Director here, we have a different approach to his music and probably play it bet­

ter any other orchestra. I say that immodestly, but I think we bring a little more flair to it, a

better feeling for the style—we convey certain rhythmic patterns in a particular way that

other ensembles do not. It's almost inherent. When I first got here, I realized immediately

that this orchestra treats Mahler in a special way.

The two Mahler performances that stand out as the most memorable of my tenure in the

Philharmonic were the Ninth Symphony with Boulez in the Cathedral at Chartres—there

was something magical about hearing that music and viewing the interior architecture of the

cathedral—and Lenny's last Symphony No. 2 with us.

Boulez is a great Mahler conductor, one reason being his plastic treatment of tempo

changes, it's just mesmerizing. He doesn't make ritards just to prepare a new tempo, he molds

everything in a wonderful and perfect-sounding way.

"Mahler ' s n u a n c e s are t h e m o r e d i f f i cu l t cha l l enges ."

Stanley Drucker, clarinet, 1948-

Mitropoulos was another great Mahler conductor He was very flamboyant, he had

extremes in his approach—great fortissimos, tiny pianissimos, huge crescendos—he did

240 everything larger than life. His intensity also seemed natural for all those sudden changes in

Mahler. What makes a great Mahler performance, actually, are not just the huge shifts of

tempo or dynamics, but the slight ones, the small ritards, the little goings ahead. Anyone can

do a G.P.—it's the nuances that are the more difficult challenge. It's really the chamber-

music idea, the best performances are a give and a take. Physically it's draining, but the kind

of concentration that one develops in this kind of huge work makes it very exciting. You're

forever waiting for the next high point.

"Mahler ' s s y m p h o n i e s d i s t u r b e d m e f o r m a n y y e a r s . "

Newton Mansfield, violin, 1961-

As a European, it was a disturbing experience for me to play Mahler for a long time.

Mahler was emoting his own emotional instabilities, but also expressing the terrible

disease that would come to Germany between the two World Wars, the time when every­

thing was sort of grotesque; nothing seemed quite clean. Mahler would take a simple, almost

a baby melody, and by the time he got through with it, it had the smell of the cabaret, of

decay, of something that wasn't quite right. The very type of emotional uproar that Mahler

seems to go through formed a sort of parallel path to what Europe was undergoing. That's

not true of everything, of course—the pure music of the [Fifth Symphony's] Adagietto is a

gem—but many others of Mahler's symphonies were very haunting and disturbed me for

many years. I was very drawn to Mahler, and yet very repulsed by him at the same time. The

combination of my European background and what was happening in Germany at the time

was very striking and very difficult to cope with.

Now I am more separated from the experience, so playing Mahler is always a good expe- 241

rience. I just love what Mahler does with the strings. He understands the strings, he under­

stands the whole orchestra, perhaps because he was a conductor himself, and it seemed to

have a great influence on the way he wrote. Many composers write great music that at the

same time is totally out of place on the instrument for which it's written. Not in Mahler's

case. Even in those wild passages where you have ten thousand notes, the effect is still appli­

cable to the instruments involved.

"Tennstedt and Kubelik were incredibly heated and emotional."

Orin O'Brien, double bass, 1966-

Iremember Tennstedt and Kubelik as being incredibly heated and emotional. They had a

concept and could convince you of it without words. I just adored Kubelik. His tempos

and pacing in the Seventh Symphony were just phenomenal. It's a very difficult symphony

because of the changing tempos and moods, even within the Scherzo, but I remember that

my emotional feeling was like being swirled into a maelstrom from beginning to end. The

word I connect mostly to Tennstedt is honesty. He was very strong musically, but so physi­

cally fragile on the podium that we felt rather protective of him.

Boulez was extremely clear and accurate, which is important since Mahler is so thickly

orchestrated much of the time. He always had well-balanced choirs, you could hear every

solo clearly, and he never allowed groups of instruments to overpower other groups. That

clear balance was one of his hallmarks. He would even tune chords—that is, have us play one

note at a time in woodwinds and brass and so on, then tune carefully according to what the

242 predominant harmony was.

One of Boulez's greatest assets was his ability to make it comfortable for us to play the

most difficult material. You weren't in a sweat; you had everything explained clearly and dis

passionately. It was easier playing for him since there wasn't that storm of emotion that you

felt from other conductors who wanted more from you than you could give. Bernstein, for

instance, really wanted your heart. He wanted you to feel exactly what he felt, which was

tumultuous. Boulez was oriented towards clarity; he wanted you to hear every individual

strand, and he controlled dynamics beautifully; he didn't allow anybody to overplay.

"Mahler's footprints are still within this orchestra's purview."

Joseph Robinson, oboe, 1977-

Mahler's Second at the Philharmonic's 10,000th concert was one of Mehta's high

moments. I think it's one of the best performances I had anything to do with. It was

a great concert, and I'm glad it is being included in this set. The combination of Mahler,

Mehta, and the occasion itself was very special. In an enterprise like ours, in terms of busi­

ness-as-usual, there are people who reach their best level at different times, but every now and

then it seems to happen simultaneously with enough people in prominent places playing over

their heads. We turn each other on, and if that is sustained for a while, a kind of magic sets

in that makes a performance really transcendent for those of us who are playing it.

Another occasion like that was when Bernstein filled in for Tennstedt, and we did four

concerts of Mahler's Second. At the dress rehearsal, a kind of incandescent quality happened

immediately, so we didn't stop, we just played it through. The same kind of thing happened

at the 10,000th concert. We feel a sense of greater importance on an important occasion or 243

when the TV is on. I t doesn't a lways work , but I thought i t really d i d that n ight .

T h e Ph i lharmonic was Mahler 's orchestra. I really do believe that filial piety has a great deal

to do wi th the w a y organisms (like the Phi lharmonic) perpetuate themselves. I never took a

lesson wi th Harold Gomberg, but I've been t remendously influenced by the 35 years that he

held the principal oboe post before m e — a n d , in a way, my colleagues ' expectations as well .

Listeners may not hear Harold Gomberg in my playing, but there's still a k ind of intention to

be more dramat ic , to play through a bigger range of sound and a wider spectrum of charac­

terization. All of that is really a legacy. You know, Harold Gomberg's marks are all over the parts

I play, and somet imes it's a very personal thing. In the Adagiet to of the Fifth Symphony , he

drew a little face wi th a k ind of crying expression, and tears falling off, and it says "Farewell,

H.G., may God be wi th you ." A n d it's a very touching thing. He dated it, the last performance

of Mahler ' s Fifth he w o u l d ever play. Not only have I entered Gomberg's environment , but I

have ga ined a sense of my colleagues' expectations about w h a t good oboe p lay ing is. In the

same way, Phil Smi th knows how Bill Vacchiano played the t rumpet , and I'll guarantee you

that Phil Myers has heard every note that J i m m y Chamber s ever recorded w i th this orchestra.

Mahler ' s footprints are still wi th in this orchestra's purview. T h e r e are people in the

Orchest ra w h o were protégés of people w h o issued from that era. But beyond some direct

l ineage in that sense, it's more that the Orches t ra has a sense of conf idence and pride in

k n o w i n g the Mah le r repertoire and style. I def ini te ly feel that it's my music . •

Robert Sherman has been Program Director and Executive Producer at New York's classical-radio

station WQXR, where he is currently Senior Consultant. On the faculty of The Juilliard School

244 and Manhattan School of Music, he has also served as a music critic for T h e N e w York T imes .

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks: Sh i r l ey Han B e r l i n P h i l h a r m o n i c , H e l g e G r ü n e w a l d J e r r y B r u c k

B o s t o n S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a , B r i d g e t C a r r R o h e n C o h e n

C h i c a g o S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a , G e r a l d S . Fox

B r e n d a N e l s o n - S t r a u s s , F r a n k V i l l e l l a B e r n h a r d Fr i t sch

C i n c i n n a t i C o n s e r v a t o r y L ib ra ry , Paul A l i s o n M . J o h n

K a u t h m a n W i l l i a m J o s e p h s o n

H o c h s c h u l e für M u s i k u n d dars te l lende K u n s t , M a r g a r e t K a n e

V i e n n a , D e s m o n d M a r k B e n j a m i n D . K e r m a n

G e m e e n t e m u s e u m , T h e H a g u e , F r i t s Z w a r t M i c h a e l a K u r z

T h e K a p l a n F o u n d a t i o n , G i l b e r t K a p l a n , G a i l A l a n S . Fe s i t sky

R o s s Lars L i n d h a l

L i b r a r y o f C o n g r e s s , S a m B r y l a w s k i , B e n M a l k e v i t c h

L a w r e n c e A p p l e b a u m C y n t h i a M e i s t e r

M e t r o p o l i t a n O p e r a , R o b e r t T u g g l e , E d w a r d R e i l l y

J o h n P e n n i n o T e r i R e y e s

Musical America, S t e p h a n i e C h a l l e n e r L a w r e n c e R o c k

The New York Times, L i n d a A m s t e r D e n n i s D. R o o n e y

P h i l a d e l p h i a O r c h e s t r a , D a r r i n T B r i t t i n g S . S t e v e n s S a n d s

R o y a l C o n c e r t g e b o u w O r c h e s t r a , H a n s N o r m a n S c h w e i k e r t

F e r w e r d a S t e v e n S m o l i a n

S o n y M u s i c M a n u f a c t u r i n g L a d y V a l e r i e So l t i

U n i v e r s i t y o f M i s s o u r i , K a n s a s C i ty , A r t h u r S t e i n b e r g

C h u c k H a d d i x Al lan S t e c k l e r

T h e U n i v e r s i t y o f W e s t e r n O n t a r i o , D o n T a i t

L o r r a i n e B u s b y M a l c o l m W a l k e r

V i e n n a P h i l h a r m o n i c , C l e m e n s H e l l s b e r g M y l e s W a t s o n

M a r t i n W i l l i a m s

D a v i d W r i g h t 245

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (continued)

The following generously granted Estate of William Steinberg

permission for the production of this set: Estate of Leopold Stokowski

The musicians of the New York Philharmonic Estate of Set Svanholm, with the kind

Local 802, AFM, William Moriarity, President permission of his children

American Federation of Musicians, Inge Tennstedt and EMI Records

Steve Young, President Bruno Walter Memorial Foundation

Chris Alexander Camilla Williams, Professor of Voice, Indiana

Lady Evelyn Barbirolli University School of Music, Bloomington

Kathleen Battle Frances Yeend

Pierre Boulez

Estate of Eugene Conley, Victor and Diana Lea Sources: The Kathleen Ferrier Awards New York Philharmonic Archives (Nos. 2, 3, 5, 7;

Professor Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau Das Lied and Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen)

Maureen Forrester Library of Congress—Voice of America

Estate of Rafael Kubelik, Elsie Kubelik Collection (Nos. 1, 4, 9, and 10);

Martha Lipton, Professor emeritus, Indiana Mortimer H. Frank (No. 1)

University, Bloomington Seth B. Winner (No. 6)

Mrs. George London Estate of Stephen Temmer—Bernhard Fritsch,

Zubin Mehta Richard M. Kemmler (No. 8)

Yvonne Minton John Pfeiffer Collection—courtesy of Larry

The Estate of Dimitri Mitropoulos, King, James Lum, Teri Noel Towe (No. 10:

James Dixon Purgatorio)

Prof. Wolfgang Schneiderhan for Irmgard Collection of Harold G. Colt, Jr. (Das Lied)

Seefried Stan Ruttenberg and Arthur D. Cohen

For Sir Georg Solti: Music Production Inc. and (William Malloch's "I Remember Mahler")

The Decca Record Company Limited

Copyright © © 1998, The Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York, Inc. 246