Features: The Unfinished Symphony

The rumblings of dissatisfaction began as long as 15 ago (some say more) when local critics started to become unhappy with what they were hearing during Orchestra concerts. Night after night, note pads in hand, reviewers listened to one of the world’s finest orchestras perform, yet there was something decidedly
they say boring? — about those concerts. The content of grams drew heavily on tried-and-true composers such Beethoven and Brahms — all wonderful, to be sure, schedule rarely strayed from such stalwart genius, The classics — good modern music that other American were performing — were generally not heard here. Why wasn’t the Philadelphia Orchestra playing 20th-century music, the answer, some say, lay in the basic conservatism of the orchestra’s board of directors and the support of that conservatism by Eugene Ormandy throughout his 44-year tenure as music director. In an endless cycle, Ormandy’s support of that conservatism bred a similarly conservative taste in the city’s listening audience, whose musical preferences were, in effect, being shaped
for them. After a while, the orchestra could rightfully defend its narrow repertoire with the claim that it played the kind of music its customers were willing to pay for. "Philadelphia is a very conservative town," says John VonRhein, music critic for the Chicago Tribune. "That’s how the board and the audience want it."

Once upon a time, during the tenure of the iconoclastic and brilliant Leopold Stokowski, Philadelphia was a musically innovative city. In the fall of 1912, Stokowski became the orchestra’s third conductor in a dozen years, succeeding Fritz Scheel (1900-1907) and Karl Pohlig (1907-1912), two majestically mustachioed maestros who lent their rigid Germanic interpretations to standard 19th-century programming. Neither Scheel nor Pohlig did much to spark audience interest or to win financial support from Philadelphia’s gentry. But when the 30 year-old Leopold Stokowski exploded on the scene like a cork from a shaken bottle of champagne, he promptly displayed a magical touch for the unorthodox that won nationwide publicity and set straitlaced Philadelphia abuzz. But Stokowski was much more than simply a genius at winning attention for the orchestra. He was a musician whose dynamic and imaginative leadership was responsible for turning the Philadelphia into a world-class orchestra.

More than anything else, Stokowski is remembered for introducing his audiences to contemporary classical music, music written by composers whose names were virtually unknown in Philadelphia at that time. Those names included many of the other memorable "S" -surnamed musicians of the day: Stravinsky (whose Rite of Spring had its American premiere here), Scriabin, Satie, Schonberg and Sibelius. But though Stokowski’s audiences found him a charming character, his interest in modem music struck a harsh note in conservative Philadelphians’ ears. Some of his programs at the Academy were greeted with hisses and even mass exoduses during certain pieces. The maestro remained undaunted; he continued, despite growing resistance, to try to bring the city into the 20th century. In 1925, under Stokowski’s direction, the orchestra made the first electrical recording for the Victor Talking Machine Company. And in 1929 the orchestra became the first to perform on a commercially sponsored radio program.

The Depression of the 30s coupled with the deaths of Edward Bok and Alexander
Van Renssellaer — two of Stokowski’s most munificent supporters — strengthened the hand of the orchestra’s largely conservative board of directors in its struggle the innovative conductor. The board tightened the purse strings just as Stokowski was pushing for the new concert tours. In 1935, to bluff to board into agreeing to his demands expenditures, the conductor submitted his resignation. He was surprised when it was accepted. His successor as chief conductor in 1936 was the Hungarian-born gene Ormandy. Though Stokowski continued to conduct the orchestra a few weeks during each of the next seasons, he was, in effect, out. Ormandy was named music director in 1938.

With Stokowski went much of the interest in things modem. Ormandy physically different from Stokowski as he was temperamentally and musically different. Stokowski was a tall, rangy blond who created much personal and professional gossip during his years here. He was notorious for his dramatic, sometimes petulant, nature — a prima donna. Only 5 foot 5 and prematurely bald, Eugene Ormandy looked more like a cherubic Swiss watchmaker than a figure of romance. And whereas Stokowski had tried to intimidate the board members, Ormandy strived to please them. In no one way did he please them more than in his redirection of Philadelphia into the safe and comfortable past From 1936 to 1980, Ormandy charted the musical direction of the orchestra with a
steady and absolute hand.

Under his direction, the orchestra solidified its radio and recording contracts
and increased its reputation through expanded concert tours. Ormandy not only
maintained the prestige the orchestra had attained under Stokowski, he made its position even more secure. During the Ormandy years, the ranking of Philadelphia among the "Big Five" U.S. orchestras (Chicago, Boston, Cleveland and New York are the others generally included on that list) became unquestioned. Indeed, when the world’s top-ten orchestras were listed Philadelphia was routinely ranked among them. By 1950, Philadelphia’s had become the world’s most-traveled orchestra and had the greatest number of recorded selections to its credit. Some 24 million records were sold in the 1940s alone. By 1962, Ormandy himself was Columbia Records’ top-selling classical artist. Clearly, the conservative formula in Philadelphia was working.