Ormandy’s Orchestra


Increasingly in recent years, Philadelphia went through a series of early autumns with the threat of a musician’s strike which might interfere with the scheduled opening of the Orchestra season. Management took the position that the men were well-paid and that any further concession would upset the balance of their delicate financial plight — the books showed, in those years, deficits ranging from $50,000 to $65,000.

Two years ago, in the process of a particularly virulent strike threat, a group of local music lovers banded together, and called a meeting in a downtown hotel. The ballroom was packed, and the spokesmen suggested setting up a group in the City which would endeavor to negotiate with the musicians and meet their demands. They petitioned the Orchestra Association for a membership list, so that they could endeavor to raise support. They were refused, and a short time later, management and the Local signed a contract and the season began right on schedule.

Early last spring the spokesman for Local 77 released to the newspapers the organization’s contract demands for the forthcoming year: Among the requests, for a longer work year, a better pay scale, higher allowances for out-of-town expenses, reporters spotted the phrase, "and the right to dismiss the musical director." The papers hit the streets and ensuing brouhaha hasn’t been equaled since the Redcoats had to stop dancing with Philadelphia belles to dress for the surrender. When the smoke had cleared, the musicians’ lawyer had resigned, the Orchestra members had appointed a committee of five, and the Association named its own committee to sit down across a table and work out a contract "face to face, without lawyers or intermediaries."

Negotiations went on throughout the spring and summer, and when they were finally ratified by the legal staffs for both parties, they spelled out a model contract, calling for a revolutionary full 52-week working year; three weeks vacation with pay; and a salary at the end of two years amounting to $12,000 per man — $2000 of which would come from record royalties.

Royalties had been a particularly sore point for the working musicians for a number of years — the recording dates were paid for at regular hourly rates, plus overtime on Sundays or holidays. But as they watched the figures zoom along on the sales charts, they always wondered where the money went. Rumor said it went to Ormandy, partly, and the rest was buried in the Endowment Fund. However true that may be, they now stand to profit by a best-seller, and it adds that much zest to the weary hours, and the time spent on trains, and the often bad hotels and mediocre food which are a large part of their working life.

It spells something else again to symphony orchestra members around the country: One contract like this deserves another, they feel, and already the men who did the negotiating are being besieged by their counterparts in other cities to tell how they brought it off.