Chicago Symphony Orchestra 1952-1953

 1952 – 1953

2, 3 October 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor

Handel    Concerto grosso No.  6
Beethoven    Symphony No. 4
Dvořák    Symphony No. 8

On the Aisle 
Chicago Symphony Opens 62d Season With Kubelik In Orchestra Hall 
BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

EASIER TO LISTEN to than write about was last night’s opening of the Chicago Symphony orchestra’s 62d season in Orchestra hall, and my dilemma is underscored by the woman who wrote to ask why don’t I write about the orchestra the way I write when I am out of town. What she hasn’t noticed—or has she?—is that when I encounter such a performance away from home I just touch on it and write about something else. It’s more fun for me, too.

But I can’t very well tell you about the trip down the outer drive, nice as the moon was, or how much that highflung bridge between the Wrigley buildings resembles a 20th century Bridge of Sighs at our Tribune parking angle. I have to tell you what happened right there in Orchestra hall. And what happened was this.

The orchestra, with some changes in personnel and seating, sounded rich and mellow and rooted without being anchored, as if it could play its head off at the drop of a baton. It sounded like the Chicago Symphony orchestra, which has been one of my favorites for quite a long time. Rafael Kubelik, starting his third season as head man, looked rested and pleased with his friendly welcome.

He had chosen a rather uneventful program—Handel’s Concerto Grosso in G minor, the fourth symphonies of Beethoven and Dvorak—and all of them had passages, even corridors opening into each other, that pleased the ear. There were warmly lyrical outbursts and some shining crests of tone. But of the inner sense and structure, the qualities that stir the mind and enrich the spirit, the glory that makes music a necessity, not a past time, there was scarcely a glimmer.

Better luck as the season ripens, with its first Pop concert scheduled for Saturday night. Meanwhile, the Orchestral association’s report for the 1951-52 season gives the net deficit as $84,243.50. Take heart, tho, the orchestra’s total net assets are $4,618,123.26. Doesn’t that make it just about the richest orchestra in the world?

Commentary
The Critic This review is by Claudia Cassidy, the powerful and feared music and drama critic for the Chicago Tribune (often nicknamed "Acrid Claudia"). She famously held a grudge against Rafael Kubelik during his tenure (1950–1953), and this review is a classic example of her relentless campaign against him, which ultimately contributed to his departure from Chicago.
The Review Cassidy employs her characteristic style of "damning with faint praise." She compliments the physical sound of the orchestra ("rich and mellow," "shining crests of tone") but explicitly divorces this success from the conductor's interpretation. Her core critique—that the performance lacked "inner sense and structure"—strikes directly at Kubelik's competency as a musical architect. By spending the first two paragraphs discussing the view from the "outer drive" and a reader's letter rather than the music, she deliberately diminishes the importance of the event.
The Program
•    Dvorak's "Fourth": The review mentions the "fourth symphonies of Beethoven and Dvorak." It is important to note that under the numbering system used in 1952, Dvorak's Symphony No. 8 in G major was known as No. 4. (The "New World" was No. 5).
•    Handel: The "Concerto Grosso in G minor" is most likely Op. 6, No. 6, a staple of the repertoire.
Historical Context The financial note at the end is significant. Despite a deficit of over $84,000 (a substantial sum in 1952), Cassidy highlights the orchestra's massive net assets ($4.6 million), suggesting the institution itself was robust, even if she felt the artistic leadership was lacking.

9, 10 October 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor

Gluck    Iphegenie en Aulide, overture
Honegger    Symphony No. 5, ‘Di tre re’
Schubert    Symphony No. 9, ‘Great’

Transcription

On the Aisle 
Honegger Is New but Best of Schubert Is News at Kubelik's Concert 
BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

WHAT’S NEW is not invariably what’s news. Take the Chicago Symphony orchestra’s concert in Orchestra hall last night. Its centerpiece was the orchestra’s first performance of Arthur Honegger’s Symphony No. 5, whose subtitle, "di tre re," has nothing to do with three kings, but refers to the last note at the end of each movement, "a drum tap on D, pianissimo." Commissioned by the Koussevitzky foundation, it is less than two years old, it sounds on the first hearing like a minor work of an interesting composer, and a few cryptic hisses pierced the applause.

But for about half the distance of the C Major Symphony, Schubert stole the show. This happened when Rafael Kubelik gave the orchestra a chance to revert to the eloquence and simplicity instilled by its basic half century of style, and it was not only good Kubelik news, it made the Schubert sound as new as such music always sounds in good performance.

For two movements, the symphony had the freshness of new coinage. It understood that the music is idyllic but not bucolic, that its lyricism is the spontaneous surge of deep feeling, its exuberance a kind of inner glory waiting to burst into exultant song. The orchestra was as mellow as the horns that set the mood, as freely reined as a thorobred should be. The slow movement welled to a warmly natural beauty more reassuring than anything I had heard the orchestra achieve under Kubelik’s direction, and it was a pleasure I hoped would be abiding.

Unfortunately, it was not. The instant the scherzo began he put his imprint on the music, and the longer the music lasted the heavier the imprint. Still, for two movements, that Schubert was news as news goes nowadays in Orchestra hall.

That it is so makes me reluctant to write off the Honegger until another hearing. If such familiar music as the Schubert falls apart in the middle and Gluck’s Overture to "Iphigenie en Aulide" lacks its backbone of classic declamation, how is it possible in run thru performance to know what Honegger has to say? He is a skilled craftsman whose native speech is of dramatic intensity austerely expressed. The crude, the facile, the routine performance blurs and dims him almost beyond recognition.

Notes A satirical musical comedy is flirting with the title, "The Age of Miss Seedless Raisin." . . . Nearly all the New York shows start Monday night performances at 7, but inquiries here indicate that early curtains are considered feasible only for long runs. . . . George Antheil has written an opera based on "Volpone," with a libretto after Ben Jonson by Alfred Perry. It will be staged at the University of Southern California Jan. 9. . . . A small boy related to this corner at least by juxtaposition has just started to school and he calls recess "intermission."

Commentary
The Program
•    Honegger's Symphony No. 5: This was a significant Chicago premiere. The subtitle "Di tre re" (Of the three D's) is explained in the text as referring to the quiet timpani D that ends each of the three movements.
•    Schubert's C Major: Historically referred to as Symphony No. 7 or sometimes No. 10 in older cataloging, this is now universally known as Symphony No. 9. Cassidy refers to it simply as the "C Major Symphony."
•    Gluck: The Overture to Iphigénie en Aulide is mentioned almost as an afterthought in the critique, used primarily to attack the conductor's handling of "classic declamation."
The Critique Claudia Cassidy continues her aggressive stance against Rafael Kubelik. The structure of this review is particularly calculating; she praises the first two movements of the Schubert enthusiastically ("freshness of new coinage," "inner glory"), attributing this success to the orchestra's "basic half century of style"—essentially implying they played despite the conductor. She then pivots sharply, claiming the performance collapsed the moment Kubelik "put his imprint on the music" in the scherzo.
She uses this alleged incompetence to cast doubt on the reception of the new Honegger work. By suggesting the performance was "crude," "facile," and "routine," she implies that any failure of the new symphony to impress the audience (noting the "cryptic hisses") was the fault of the conductor rather than the composer.
Context The "small boy" mentioned in the Notes who calls school recess "intermission" is a lighthearted personal touch, contrasting sharply with the severity of her musical criticism.
16, 17 October 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Irmgard Seefried, soprano

Vivaldi    Sinfonia 'Al Santo Sepolcro' in B minor
Handel    ‘Piangerò la sorte mia’ from Giulio Cesare
Haydn    Nun beut die Flur from The Creation
Mozart    ‘Per pietà, ben mio from Così fan tutte
Mahler    Symphony No. 9

On the Aisle 
Stock’s Memorial Is Seefried’s Song, Orchestra’s Mahler, Human Kubelik 
BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

MEMORIALS ARE WHERE you find them. I doubt that Frederick Stock would have given more than a disturbed head shake had he heard last night’s dusty tribute anticipating the 10th anniversary of his death on Oct. 20, a sepulchral Sinfonia for Strings, "Al Santo Sepolcro," inferior Vivaldi edited by Antonio Fanna for reasons no doubt his own. But the Stock so long the heart of Orchestra hall would have been delighted with the adorable Irmagard Seefried’s song, especially her Mozart and Haydn, he would have been reassured by the best of the Chicago Symphony orchestra’s playing in the Mahler Ninth, and I think he would have clucked in amused sympathy when Rafael Kubelik, who had lost increasing numbers of customers with each Mahler pause, finally turned around and glared in sheer exasperation—whereupon the remaining faithful laughed and applauded, and he and the orchestra laughed, too. The young conductor was less like company then that at any time since his arrival in Chicago.

In the matter of programming, the exodus was his fault. The Mahler is 70 minutes long, and it stretched the concert until 20 minutes of 11, while suburban trains wait for no man—and many a man won’t wait for Mahler. But when it came to performance, this was one of Kubelik’s better jobs. He worked quietly and seriously with score, and while he was unable to accomplish the miracle of magnetizing the long winded retrospection into a convincing whole, he did achieve a performance that was interesting as it developed, particularly fortunate in effectively ending each movement, and often rich in the colors of "Das Lied von der Erde," the colors Bruno Walters calls "the shadow of death." It was too long for me as Mahler, for this is to me one of his duller works, but not too long as some of the finest playing, solo and ensemble, the orchestra has done under Kubelik’s direction.

Why put it on a program with Seefried? Well, there you have me. With Seefried on hand, you need nothing else at all. This warm dark girl with the shadowed eyes and the radiant face looks like a nice youngster who is eternally grateful to the conductor, the concert master, the man who plays the horn so beautifully and happens to be Philips Farkas, and it isn’t a pose. You can’t fake that special glow in Chicago any more than in Vienna or Salzburg. She is a generous person. But she happens also to be an artist of quality, a musician of serene style, and a pretty girl whose lyric soprano is sheathed in cream and strung to the heart. Handel’s Cleopatra aria from "Julius Caesar" was good singing, tho not fully at home in the grand style. But Haydn’s "With Verdure Clad," Fiordiligi’s aria from "Cosi Fan Tutte," and the encored "Deh vieni" from "The Marriage of Figaro" were not only superbly sung, they had the special, irreplaceable and irresistible sound of a woman singing.

Incidentally, Miss Seefried has changed her recital program for Nov. 24. It now roams from Purcell, Pergolesi, Scarlatti, and Beethoven to groups of songs by Schubert and Brahms and the Schumann cycle, "Frauenliebe und Leben."

23, 24 October 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor

Smetana    Ma vlast

Czech Music Cycle Is Given By Orchestra 
BY SEYMOUR RAVEN

It is sometimes said that full appreciation of a musical performance is possible only after historical, technical, and esthetic considerations have all been taken into account. This can be very true, but it can also be irrelevant.

For with Smetana’s "Ma Vlast," played last night by the Chicago Symphony orchestra under Rafael Kubelik’s direction, historical insight and technical appraisal add relatively little to its present worth as concert music, while its shrinking merit in performance takes nothing away from its historic significance.

"Ma Vlast" [My Country] is an important Czech musical document, and in its 19th century context it proves what newer art works do in our own time—that the healthy expression of nationalism wins admiration, not hostility, outside national boundaries. Thus in the six symphonic poems that make up "Ma Vlast," Smetana illuminated Czech national character so strongly that the pages of world music became brighter as a result.

In its entirety, therefore, the cycle retains an honored place in the history books of both the Czech nation and the international musical community. But in its entirety it no longer lives as concert music and there is little point in serving up all six sections in one evening’s performance.

Legend is generously served in the part entitled "Sarka," Sarka having been an Amazon before whom men crumbled, and there is a ferocity in the musical climax which is most compelling. The good earth and its waters are amply represented in "From Bohemia’s Meadows and Forests" and "The Moldau." In these three portions Mr. Kubelik and the orchestra reached some very impressive peaks of eloquence.

The other parts only helped to thicken the concert to a paste. Harmonic interest waned often [despite swells of sonority which sought to pump up vitality over and over again] and fell positively dead in "Tabor," the section describing the stronghold of the followers of Jan Huss.

By the end of the concert one recognized no cumulative accomplishment, save, as I have suggested, the kind which guarantees nothing in actual performance.

Commentary
The Critic It is notable that this review is written by Seymour Raven, not Claudia Cassidy. While Raven was generally considered less vitriolic than Cassidy, he offers a surprisingly stern critique here, not of the performance quality, but of the programming choice itself.
The Program
•    Complete Cycle: Performing the complete cycle of six symphonic poems that comprise Ma vlast was (and remains) a relatively rare event; usually, only Vltava (The Moldau) or From Bohemia's Meadows and Forests are performed as standalone pieces.
•    Kubelik's Signature: This music was intensely personal for Kubelik, a Czech patriot and son of the legendary violinist Jan Kubelik. He would later become famous for his reference recordings of this very cycle with the Chicago Symphony (Mercury Living Presence) and later with the Bavarian Radio Symphony and Boston Symphony.
The Critique Raven argues that while the work has immense "historic significance" as a document of nationalism, it fails as a cohesive concert experience ("thickens the concert to a paste").
•    Praise: He acknowledges "peaks of eloquence" in the most famous sections: Sarka, The Moldau, and From Bohemia’s Meadows and Forests.
•    Criticism: He explicitly dismisses the other sections, particularly Tabor, claiming the harmonic interest "fell positively dead." This contrasts sharply with modern assessments, where Kubelik's complete Ma vlast is often considered a benchmark of his career.

30, 31 October 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Raya Garbousova, cello

Rossini    Semramide, Overture
Barber    Cello Concerto
Hilding Rosenberg    Concerto for Orchestra
Richard Strauss    Don Juan

On the Aisle Garbousova's Barber and Rosenberg's Concerto In Dull Concert BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

TO ONE IN SEARCH of music, Orchestra hall remains an occupational hazard. Even with my practically indestructible devotion to the Chicago Symphony orchestra, which points wistfully to scraps remaining in the shredded whole, I could only sympathize with the old line subscriber who groaned last night, "For years I've been keeping my seats as a kind of insurance. I'm beginning to wonder what I'm insuring."

Now if you happened to be in Orchestra hall you may be bristling just now, saying, "Why, I thought some of it sounded better than usual." That's just the trouble, some of it did. The orchestra is in good shape. The strings want to sing, we have some stellar winds, and undeniably a stellar trumpet. We have the good, strong, deep roots of fine music. But we have in Rafael Kubelik an inferior conductor who makes incredible programs, and we have a steadily shrinking audience full of ringers because even a lot of people who buy seats are increasingly careful when they come. If that is a healthy situation, my error.

If not, we now have a surgeon as president of the orchestral association. If we are lucky, and I mean both orchestra and audience, his diagnosis will see the urgent need of a crack conductor. By that I mean a first class musician with imagination and spirit and heart, a man who again will make a magnet of Orchestra hall.

Last night Mr. Kubelik had a soloist Raya Garbousova, who is teaching here. Miss Garbousova is a competent cellist, if you will admit that the competent can also be dull, and she played Samuel Barber's Concerto, which had not improved since she introduced it here with Charles Munch in 1949. It simply goes at rather interminable length over ground covered countless times before, and finds nothing new to report.

The evening's novelty, a Concerto for Orchestra written in 1949 by the Swedish composer, Hilding Rosenberg, is just about as vacuous, tho on a lower level, for it sounds like movie background music with a particularly saccharine slow movement. It seems doubtful that many conductors disputed the Kubelik right to that "American premiere."

As end pieces for all this came Rossini's Overture to "Semiramide" and Strauss' "Don Juan" as tantalizers. The orchestra was really in there to play. But Rossini's silky brilliance was damaged by stentorian dynamics, and the Strauss lost its surging sweep by getting mired up in Kubelik's sirupy hand waving.

Notes Boston has good words for the touring company of "The Shrike," with Van Heflin in Jose Ferre's role. It comes eventually to Chicago. . . . Ellen Powell, 14 year old daughter of Joan Blondell and Dick Powell, comes with her mother's "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" as assistant stage manager. She must qualify under the same legal procedures certifying child actors for employment. . . . London producers recently were saying production costs there are about a third what they are in America. Gilbert Miller, here to roll a velvet carpet for his "Gigi," says a fourth or a fifth is more like it. A producer with offices in both places for decades, he ought to know. That's one of the reasons London has so many more shows.

The Attack Intensifies This review represents a significant escalation in Claudia Cassidy's campaign against Rafael Kubelik.
•    "Occupational Hazard": She opens by labeling the concert experience an "occupational hazard" and explicitly calls Kubelik an "inferior conductor."
•    Call for Removal: She uses the election of a new president of the Orchestral Association (a surgeon) to call for a "diagnosis" that results in hiring a "crack conductor" to replace Kubelik.
The Repertoire
•    Rosenberg: The performance of Hilding Rosenberg's Concerto for Orchestra (1949) was an American Premiere. Cassidy dismisses it entirely as "vacuous" and "movie background music," sarcastically noting that no other conductor would dispute Kubelik's right to premiere it.
•    Barber: Samuel Barber's Cello Concerto fares no better; despite Garbousova having introduced it to Chicago previously with Charles Munch, Cassidy finds it "interminable".
•    Orchestral Playing: Consistent with her previous reviews, she praises the orchestra's intrinsic quality ("stellar winds," "stellar trumpet") while blaming the conductor for ruining the standard repertoire (Rossini and Strauss) with "stentorian dynamics" and "sirupy hand waving".
Soloist Raya Garbousova, a Russian-born American cellist who was teaching in the area, is dismissed as merely "competent" and "dull".
6, 7 November 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Szymon Goldberg, violin

Prokofiev    Symphony No. 1, ‘Classical’
Bach     Violin Concerto No. 2 in E major
Mozart    Violin Concerto No. 5, ‘Turkish’
Roussel    Suite in F major

On the Aisle Szymon Goldberg Welcome Soloist In Felicitous Mozart and Bach BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

AS A MAJOR FELICITY of the season’s concertgoing, note Szymon Goldberg’s Mozart and Bach last night in Orchestra hall. The Polish violinist, whose European fortunes have ranged from posts with Furtwaengler, Feuermann, and Hindemith to four years in war time prison camps, is no stranger here, on the stage or on record shelves. You may remember his Brahms at a Chicago Symphony "Pops," his Beethoven with Paul Paray and the Pittsburgh orchestra, or his appearance in Grant Park. But this was his debut at the Chicago Symphony’s subscription concerts, where his welcome indicated many happy returns to come.

Mr. Goldberg is small, compact, and quietly pokerfaced. He knows the violin and he knows music. Having a pure, singing tone of unusual beauty, the kind of technique that gives even the more glittering passages a living resilience, and a security that can give a performance a crack concertmaster’s unobtrusive control, he is not just that sometimes hapless soul, "a musician’s musician," but a musician who can delight the multitudes. It is pure pleasure to hear him play.

With Rafael Kubelik at the helm of a chamber size orchestra, Mr. Goldberg played Bach’s Concerto in E major, the one with the clouded crystal adagio, and that eternal source of enchantment, Mozart’s Concerto in A major, K. 219. In the Bach, Mr. Kubelik was his devoted shadow rather than his companion, which is less than ideal collaboration, but once the Mozart got under way soloist and orchestra worked more felicitously side by side, with some delectable byplay, and the amusing little storm declared by the finale was Mr. Kubelik’s peak of evening performance.

The music surrounding the soloist was a familiar case of ups and downs. The Roussel Suite in F had its points, but not the silky virtuosity demanded by a minor showpiece aimed at the Boston orchestra of Koussevitzky days. Prokofieff’s Classical Symphony expired in lackluster performance of clodhopper tempi.

Commentary
The Soloist This concert marked the subscription debut of Szymon Goldberg (1909–1993). As Cassidy notes, he had a formidable pedigree: he was concertmaster of the Berlin Philharmonic under Furtwängler at age 20 but was forced to leave due to the rise of the Nazis. He spent the war years interned in a Japanese prison camp in Java (referenced in the text). Cassidy's praise is unreserved; she describes his tone as having "unusual beauty" and "living resilience."
The Conductor Cassidy's treatment of Kubelik follows her established narrative but contains a rare concession:
•    The Negative: She attacks his handling of the Prokofiev ("clodhopper tempi"—implying a heavy, clumsy approach to a work that requires lightness) and the Roussel (unfavorably comparing the CSO's string playing to the Boston Symphony's "silky virtuosity" under Koussevitzky).
•    The Positive: Surprisingly, she identifies the finale of the Mozart concerto as "Kubelik's peak of evening performance," noting the "delectable byplay" between soloist and orchestra.
The Works
•    Roussel: The Suite in F major was indeed dedicated to Serge Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony Orchestra, a fact Cassidy uses to highlight the Chicago orchestra's perceived shortcomings in comparison.
•    Bach: Cassidy critiques Kubelik's accompaniment in the Bach E Major concerto as being too passive ("devoted shadow rather than his companion")
13, 14 November 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor

Brahms    Variations on a Theme by Haydn
Bruckner    Symphony No. 3

Bruckner's 3d Presented in Orchestra Hall 
BY SEYMOUR RAVEN

One could enter Orchestra hall last night as neither an admirer of Anton Bruckner’s music nor of Rafael Kubelik’s conducting and still come away with a listener’s rewards. Mr. Kubelik and the Chicago Symphony orchestra spent most of their time with Bruckner’s Symphony No. 3, in D minor, after opening the concert with Brahms’ Variations on a Theme by Haydn.

This Bruckner symphony has a purer strain of romanticism than some of his others and less of what Hanslick called the upward surging lamentations and subsiding lamentation. Hanslick must have been referring, in his own way, to what others, more sympathetically inclined toward Bruckner, call religious mysticism.

So, altho the Bruckner Third Symphony runs more than an hour and has many of the tiresome, repetitive devices of his other symphonies it can be made to sound fresh and melodic and unostentatiously dramatic. This Mr. Kubelik succeeded in doing and when the performance was done it could be chalked up as a credit to conductor and orchestra alike.

The main thing was that Mr. Kubelik did not force anything on the symphony any more than he did on the Brahms music.

The Brahms was mellow, easy in flow and thoroly relaxed and it made pleasant listening. The only fault in the performance, and a serious one, to be sure, was the lack of contrasts that should mark the reading of such an example of variation form. Each variation should have emerged with more profile than it did, but on this occasion Mr. Kubelik kept tempi and dynamics on the "under" side and while, as I said, the sound was mellow the total interpretation was short of authoritative.

Commentary
The Reviewer This review is by Seymour Raven, who often provides a cooler, more analytical counterpoint to the fiery prose of Claudia Cassidy. His assessment here is balanced, acknowledging potential biases ("neither an admirer...") before delivering the verdict.
The Music
•    Bruckner: Raven offers high praise for Kubelik’s handling of Bruckner's Third. In 1952, Bruckner was not yet the guaranteed box-office draw he is today, and Raven alludes to the common criticisms of the time ("tiresome, repetitive devices"). However, he credits Kubelik with making the work sound "fresh and melodic" and "unostentatiously dramatic."
•    Brahms: While he found the sound "mellow" and "pleasant," Raven criticizes the interpretation for being too restrained ("under" side) and lacking the necessary contrast between variations, calling it "short of authoritative."
Historical Context The mention of Eduard Hanslick in the review is a nod to the famous 19th-century Viennese critic who was a fierce opponent of Bruckner and Wagner, often used by critics to contextualize the "lamentations" or length of Bruckner's work.
20, 21 November 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Rudolf Serkin, piano

Mozart    Symphony No. 34
Brahms    Piano Concerto No. 1
Harris    Symphony No. 7

Serkin, Harris Are Featured By Orchestra 
BY SEYMOUR RAVEN

Now that "atomic explosion" has become a vulgar tool of language, there is to be a new way to describe Rudolf Serkin’s playing of Brahms’ First Piano Concerto. Or, if we cling to the old, it is with the remonstrance that you find the release of energy not in the mushroom cloud of performance but in the nuclear ideas.

Yes, Mr. Serkin’s cloud, last night with the Chicago Symphony under Rafael Kubelik’s direction, was an excitement of body motion that had observers clutching at their trouser legs, arm rests, or limp handkerchiefs. But in the music itself is where one found the great tensions and explosions—the pianist yielding first before the composer’s show of strength, then surmounting him in a victory of irresistible pianism.

You may be sure Brahms planned it that way, but with a master pianist as part of the scheme. No Brahmsian surrender to a pigmy!

Harris Premiere Consider now that the premiere of the evening, Roy Harris’ Seventh Symphony, also had a piano, an electronically amplified piano, welded into an extra large orchestration that already had chimes, drums of several kinds, vibraphone, and others.

It was just Mr. Harris’ luck, therefore, that Brahms [and not necessarily a music critic of the moment] should be the heckler. You understand, I am not asking a contemporary composer to stand or fall thru comparison with Brahms, but it is fair to ask how the newer man can make a case for new music when, with a souped-up piano and swollen orchestra, he has to compete with pure music, Brahms’ or anybody else’s.

On its own, Mr. Harris’ symphony, a one movement passacaglia lasting 16 minutes, is a resourceful employment of fragmentary pseudo-counterpoint and expanses of harmonic aridity toward an illusion of melodic movement and orchestral climax. Such an accomplishment is not to be minimized, for with such means a composer can sometimes outdo one who squanders thematic material and makes fireworks of development devices.

Economy Note Yet, Mr. Harris, thru a little more concentrated effort, might better have turned his trick with a smaller orchestra, so as perhaps to have put his ideas across with greater clarity. Indeed, according to an associate of Mr. Harris quoted in the program book, the composer has "cross-scored" this symphony [with less instruments] in order to make it available to smaller performing bodies. Now that the pomp of a world premiere is over, we may hope for another hearing, in the other available size.

The concert, which opened with Mozart’s C Major Symphony [K. 338], had among its listeners Olga Koussevitzky, Serge Koussevitzky’s widow. She is attending many orchestras this season, the 10th anniversary of the Koussevitzky Foundation, to hear commemorative performances of works commissioned in the family name. Mr. Harris’ Seventh Symphony is one of these.

Boston Background It is worth noting, also, that the first six Harris symphonies were introduced by Koussevitzky’s Boston Symphony, five under the maestro’s own hand and one by his aid, Richard Burgin.

Mrs. Koussevitzky, and others in Orchestra hall last night, could not have picked a finer evening to hear conductor, soloist, and Chicago Symphony at their respective bests.

The Reviewer Once again, Seymour Raven provides a review that contrasts sharply with the tone often set by Claudia Cassidy. Raven is generally more analytical and, in this specific instance, highly complimentary of the conductor, stating that the audience heard the "conductor, soloist, and Chicago Symphony at their respective bests."
The "Atomic" Pianist Raven uses vivid, timely imagery ("atomic explosion," "mushroom cloud," "nuclear ideas") to describe Rudolf Serkin's kinetic performance of the Brahms Concerto. This language reflects the anxiety and fascination of the atomic age in 1952. He portrays the performance as a titanic struggle between composer and pianist ("No Brahmsian surrender to a pigmy!").
The Premiere: Roy Harris' Seventh
•    Commission: This was a World Premiere commissioned by the Koussevitzky Foundation. As noted in the review, Olga Koussevitzky was in attendance. This was a significant event, as Harris's previous six symphonies had all been premiered by the Boston Symphony Orchestra.
•    Critique: Raven is critical of the work's "harmonic aridity" and "fragmentary pseudo-counterpoint." He questions the necessity of the massive orchestration (which included an amplified piano, vibraphone, and extensive percussion), suggesting the "smaller performing body" version might offer better clarity.
•    The Work: Harris's Seventh is a single-movement work in the form of a passacaglia. Despite Raven's reservations, it is often regarded by modern critics as one of Harris's more concise and successful symphonic structures.
Program Note The Mozart symphony performed is No. 34 in C major, K. 338. The review specifies "C Major Symphony [K. 338]," distinguishing it from the "Jupiter" (No. 41) or the "Linz" (No. 36).
27, 28 November 1952

George Schick, conductor
Gerald and Wilfred Beale, violins    
Clark Brody, clarinet

IBERT    Le Chevalier errant, suite
MARTINŮ    Concerto for two violins
DEBUSSY    Rhapsody for clarinet and orchestra
BIZET    Symphony

Transcription

On the Aisle 
It's a Holiday Concert in Orchestra Hall — the Calendar Says So 
BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

CURIOUS things happened, should you have deserted your fireside feast to see how it was with the Chicago Symphony orchestra’s Thanksgiving concert in Orchestra hall. There were so many empty seats, and so many full ones whose regular occupants had given tickets away. There was the stranger who lit in a center aisle seat just long enough to hear the Beal twins play their Martinu Concerto, applaud them persistently enough to guarantee two extra bows, emit a "Bravo!" and melt into managerial regions, to be seen no more. There was also a concert, of French music except for the Beal-commissioned Czech, and a conductor of immaculate elegance might have made it charming. But Rafael Kubelik, who is not that kind of conductor, is ill, and the job went to George Schick, who is less so. It was the lucky ones who stayed at home.

Mr. Schick has an unusual gift for making music sound fatuous and bloated by sludging it up inside and pouring schmaltz over the top. This made an interminable bore of the Bizet Symphony, despite the oboe and some outbursts from singing strings, and it made chaos of the American premiere of Jacques Ibert’s "Le Chevalier Errant," a symphonic suite from a Don Quixote ballet danced by Serge Lifar in Paris. Obviously, this score is designed for the thin, transparent French orchestra tone, with the accent of the dusky winds, the guitar and the viola. Ibert is no profound composer, but he can have grace, wit, and style. Mr. Schick unforgivably made him pompous.

Debussy’s Rhapsody for Clarinet and Orchestra, absent from the orchestra’s repertory all these years for adequate reasons, is a weak sister of "L’Apres Midi d’un Faun," and Clark Brody gave it considerably less than virtuoso performance. Surely it would sound better with the clarinet placed in the orchestra, not in solo position out front. As for the Martinu Concerto for Two Violins, placing it wouldn’t help. It is about as dull a piece of commissioned junk as you ever listened to, and the nice looking boys who commissioned and played it are moderately competent fiddlers, no more.

The Substitute Conductor Rafael Kubelik was ill for this Thanksgiving concert, so assistant conductor George Schick took the podium. Claudia Cassidy offers him no mercy, describing his conducting style with the scathing phrase: "making music sound fatuous and bloated by sludging it up inside and pouring schmaltz over the top". She concludes that "the lucky ones who stayed at home" made the right choice.
The Program and Critiques
•    Ibert: The performance of Jacques Ibert's Le Chevalier errant was an American Premiere. Cassidy argues the piece requires "thin, transparent French orchestra tone" but was ruined by Schick making it "pompous".
•    Martinu: The Concerto for Two Violins (Concerto No. 2, H. 329), commissioned by the soloists, is dismissed brutally as "commissioned junk".
•    Soloists: The "Beal twins" (Gerald and Wilfred Beal) are described merely as "nice looking boys" and "moderately competent fiddlers". The clarinetist, Clark Brody (the orchestra's principal clarinet), is criticized for a "less than virtuoso performance" of the Debussy Rhapsody.
Historical Note The review mentions a "stranger" who applauded the Beal twins enthusiastically and then disappeared into the "managerial regions". This is a curious anecdote suggesting a hired claque or a very devoted agent.

4, 5 December 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Florence Kirsch, piano    
George Schick, piano
Stefan Bardas, piano    
Katja Andy, piano
Andrew Foldi, bass-baritone    
Uta Graf, soprano
Carol Smith, contralto    
Harold Brindell, tenor
University of Illinois Choir
 
Mendelssohn    The Hebrides (Fingal’s Cave, Overture
Brahms    Symphony No. 3
Stravinsky    Les Noces

Here is the transcription of the review for the concerts on December 4 and 5, 1952, followed by the concert record and commentary.
Transcription

On the Aisle Rafael Kubelik Digs Up "Les Noces"; Performance Doesn't Say Why BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

IGOR STRAVINSKY is a wizard with orchestra, but what he can do to the human voice is considerably less mesmeric. His 30 year old work, "Les Noces," resurrected by Rafael Kubelik for the second half of last night’s Chicago Symphony orchestra concert in Orchestra hall, was even duller for its 25 minutes than his newest opera, "The Rake’s Progress," was for the four hours of its Venetian premiere.

In Venice you at least had the pit orchestra playing some of the shining Stravinsky from which George Balanchine, who will stage the new work at the Metropolitan, conjures such scintillant ballet. Here, in what was originally a ballet cantata for Diaghileff’s Ballet Russe, you had a choir and four soloists opposed to four pianos and what would have been a battery of percussions, except that the whole thing is deliberately and intensely percussive, pianos and voices no less so that kettledrums, xylophone, and tambourine. It adds up to monotonous gibble gabble, with a so-called English version as unintelligible as so much Choctaw.

That this was intended to portray a scenic ceremony of a Russian village wedding, sharing the emotions of the bride, the groom, the parents and the wedding guests, was hard to imagine, tho Andrew Foldi caught what must have been an authentic cadence as the drunken old man who, fortunately in the melee, was telling what was supposed to be an unintelligible story. Otherwise, Uta Graf, Carol Smith, Harold Brindell, and the University of Illinois choir sang valiantly, the seven percussionists rimmed the proceedings with sound, and the four pianos, played by Florence Kirsch, George Schick, Stefan Bardas, and Katja Andy, thumped resolutely, getting out of hand just once with what sounded happily like a flourish from "Petrouchka." Mr. Kubelik, who is always happier when the orchestra is offstage, had himself a fine time with another of his curious combinations.

The orchestra, banished by intermission, sang for its supper in the first part of the concert, giving Mendelssohn’s Overture, "Fingal’s Cave," and Brahms’ Third Symphony generous intimations of its potential wealth of sound. Unfortunately, it could have nothing to say about the shape of things to come, which is the department of the man with the baton, whose lack of definitive musical line can make a legato passage as flabby as a crescendo is strident and forced.

The Critique Claudia Cassidy offers a scathing dismissal of Stravinsky's Les Noces (The Wedding), characterizing it as "monotonous gibble gabble" and comparing it unfavorably to his opera The Rake’s Progress. Her criticism extends beyond the composition to the conductor; she cynically notes that Kubelik "is always happier when the orchestra is offstage," implying a preference for chamber or choral works over full symphonic leadership.
The Performance
•    Stravinsky: Despite her dislike of the piece, Cassidy credits the performers. She notes the four pianists (including assistant conductor George Schick) "thumped resolutely" and the soloists "sang valiantly". She singles out bass-baritone Andrew Foldi for praise, noting he captured the "authentic cadence" of the drunken guest.
•    Standard Repertoire: The first half of the concert (Mendelssohn and Brahms) is treated as a wasted effort by the orchestra. While she acknowledges the orchestra's "potential wealth of sound," she condemns Kubelik's conducting as lacking a "definitive musical line," resulting in "flabby" legatos and "strident" crescendos.
Historical Context
•    Choctaw: Cassidy uses the phrase "unintelligible as so much Choctaw" to describe the English translation of the text. This was a common idiom of the time to denote confusion, though it is considered insensitive today.
•    Personnel: The list of pianists includes notable Chicago figures: George Schick (assistant conductor), Florence Kirsch, Stefan Bardas, and Katja Andy.

11, 12 December 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Pierre Fournier, cello

Beethoven    Fidelio, Overture
Haydn    Cello Concerto in D major
Richard Strauss    Don Quixote

Haydn, Strauss Works Played By Orchestra 
BY SEYMOUR RAVEN

For Rafael Kubelik last night it was the first public appearance since it was announced [last Tuesday] that his contract as musical director of the Chicago Symphony orchestra would not be renewed. As he came out to conduct the orchestra he must have learned something special about the Chicago audience—that even if it consents to the departure of an individual conductor the public insists on showing its respect to the conductorship as a symbol.

That, plus the kind feelings the listeners have toward Mr. Kubelik as a man, led to warm and sustained greeting as he walked toward the podium. In fact, tho he sought to turn swiftly to his music, he was constrained to turn around once again, whereupon he waved to the orchestra its share of the preliminary applause.

Reward of Tact It should be noted, thru all this, that the tone of the reception was made possible in large measure by the tact with which the Orchestral association had, two days previously, dealt with the termination of contract. It proved that where morale is involved, responsible leadership is worth its weight in gold.

The music itself had its brightest moments right at the beginning with a spirited reading of Beethoven’s Overture to "Fidelio." Then, and for the rest of the evening, Pierre Fournier was the focus of attention as solo cellist. Mr. Fournier showed, from time to time, some of the attributes that have made him a highly respected musician hereabouts as he appeared first in Haydn’s D Major Concerto and then in Richard Strauss’ "Don Quixote."

But there were also recurring lulls in interest. Among other things, the Haydn and Strauss works are poles apart historically, in the treatment of the solo instrument and in the service of the orchestral ideal. Between Mr. Fournier and his accompanists in the Haydn, and Mr. Fournier and his collaborators in the Strauss, there were frequent uncertainties as to how much or how little mutual aid was in order.

The End of an Era This review documents a pivotal moment in the orchestra's history. It is the first concert following the official announcement that Rafael Kubelik's contract would not be renewed. Seymour Raven highlights the audience's "warm and sustained greeting," suggesting a personal fondness for Kubelik despite the administrative decision to replace him.
The Succession The review explicitly names Fritz Reiner as the "conductor-designate". The mention that subscription orders were already pouring in "months before they would normally even be solicited" implies a strong public (or perhaps critic-driven) desire for the change Reiner represented.
The Performance
•    The Soloist: French cellist Pierre Fournier was the featured artist. While Raven acknowledges Fournier is a "highly respected musician," he critiques the lack of cohesion between soloist and conductor, noting "frequent uncertainties as to how much or how little mutual aid was in order".
•    The Works: The performance of the Haydn is described as having a "general condition" of "dullness," whereas the Strauss (Don Quixote) had "flashes of brilliance".

18, 19 December 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Arthur Grumiaux, violin

Haydn    Violin Concerto No. 7 in C major
Berg    Violin Concerto
Beethoven    Symphony No. 5

On the Aisle 
Grumiaux Returns To Play Haydn and Berg Concertos With Kubelik 
BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

ARTHUR GRUMIAUX, the Belgian violinist so warmly received last season when he made his Chicago Symphony orchestra debut playing Bartok, Mozart, and Bach, returned to Orchestra hall last night, again under the direction of Rafael Kubelik, to add a Haydn concerto to the repertory—a charming one in C written for the Esterhazy concertmaster—and to revive the Alban Berg Concerto, introduced here in 1939 by Louis Krasner, for whom it was written. The combination made an interesting first half of a concert with the Beethoven Fifth as its signature.

Mr. Grumiaux is a musician, he has serenity and style and a slender, singing tone, but he has, too, a certain piercing quality so that his playing doesn’t get lost. It arched over the Haydn strings, especially when they plucked the background of the slow movement, and it was the song of mourning in the emotional jungle of Berg’s "Death and the Maiden," that mystical rhapsody rather than requiem on the passing of the beautiful girl who was Gustav Mahler’s stepdaughter.

The beauty of his playing was a pleasure in the Haydn, but no surprise, for almost any good violinist plays agreeable Haydn. Its chief delight came in the Berg, especially if you remember Krasner, who had more technique than tone. The sound of the violin is just as important here as the sound of the violin in a not too dissimilar Prokofieff jungle where night birds fly, and where David Oistrakh tells you so eloquently why it was dedicated to him. Oistrakh has a huge tone, Grumiaux a comparatively small one, but the clarity and beauty of line are similar, the piercing projection in the two concertos is identical. It comes from and to the heart.

The Haydn went well in orchestral collaboration, the Berg better—in fact, it seemed to me one of Mr. Kubelik’s happiest performances. The balance was good, the mood cherished, and no one thought it necessary to obey the old injunction that the soloist should play the slow movement with his back to the audience. That is not the way grief hides its face in music.

After working scrupulously with score for the soloist, Mr. Kubelik came back without one for the Beethoven. It was rather a pity, for he came close to a big performance. The trouble was that he forced it, and he lost the wonderful momentum of the symphony by trying to make effects with it. It was as if he meant to prove beyond a doubt that the Fifth is a great piece of music, when all he had to do was let it speak for itself.

Commentary
The Soloist Arthur Grumiaux (1921–1986) had made his debut the previous season and is praised here for his "slender, singing tone" and "piercing quality". Cassidy compares him favorably to Louis Krasner (the commissioner and premiere performer of the Berg concerto), whom she bluntly notes "had more technique than tone". She also draws a comparison to David Oistrakh, noting that while Oistrakh has a "huge tone" and Grumiaux a "comparatively small one," their clarity and "piercing projection" are identical.
The Works
•    Berg: The Violin Concerto is described by Cassidy as "Death and the Maiden" (a conflation with the Schubert quartet title, though the theme is similar) and a "mystical rhapsody... on the passing of the beautiful girl who was Gustav Mahler’s stepdaughter" (Manon Gropius). She considers this one of Kubelik's "happiest performances," praising the balance and mood.
•    Haydn: The concerto "No. 7" listed in your program text is identified in the review as the one "in C written for the Esterhazy concertmaster". This corresponds to the Violin Concerto No. 1 in C major, Hob. VIIa:1, written for Luigi Tomasini. The "No. 7" designation was likely from an older Breitkopf catalog no longer in standard use.
•    Beethoven: Kubelik conducted the Symphony No. 5 from memory ("without [score]"). Cassidy criticizes this effort, arguing that he "forced it" and "lost the wonderful momentum" by "trying to make effects" rather than letting the music speak for itself.
26, 27 December 1952

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Rudolf Firkusny, piano

Vivaldi    Concerto Grosso in A major for strings,     (arr. Angelo Ephrikian)
Beethoven    Piano Concerto No. 3
Gould    Serenade of Carols
Tchaikovsky    The Nutcracker, Suite

Here is the transcription of the review for the concerts on December 26 and 27, 1952, followed by the concert record and commentary.
Transcription

Half of Kubelik Concert Good, Rest Dubious BY SEYMOUR RAVEN

Because Orchestra hall was closed Christmas, the midweek Chicago Symphony concerts have, this time, crept closer to the week-end. Yesterday afternoon the Friday subscribers took their regular seats, more or less, and tonight the program—under Rafael Kubelik’s direction and with Rudolf Firkusny as piano soloist—will be repeated for those who regularly attend on Thursday.

Mr. Kubelik’s concert yesterday was divided into clear halves, one of solid musical worth, the other questionable in terms of a symphony orchestra’s proper objectives. Before intermission there were Antonio Vivaldi’s Concerto Grosso in A major, for string orchestra and harpsichord [arranged by Angelo Ephrikian], and Beethoven’s C Minor Piano Concerto. These two works are suitable ornaments on anybody’s holiday tree.

The Vivaldi piece is of good, but not noisy, spirit; in fact it has a kind of gurgle which is distinct unto itself and makes for a happy display of string players. Yet the music has its own built-in safeguards against spilling over and you have but to sit back and enjoy it.

In the Beethoven Mr. Kubelik started off with characteristic overaccentuation, but as soon as Mr. Firkusny entered the performance leveled off noticeably.

Then pianist and conductor went thru the first two movements in a manner that was both virile and poetic. This was indeed, up to that point, a distinguished collaboration. But the performance turned coarse grained, and Beethoven was made to scratch around in the third movement until little was left of the great joy that should shine from that final portion.

Following intermission there came Morton Gould’s "Serenade of Carols" and, as a repetition from the Tuesday series, Tschaikowsky’s "Nutcracker" Suite. As against "Spirituals," a work by Mr. Gould played last summer at Ravinia, "Serenade of Carols" is good, honest writing—or rather arranging—of wholesome tunes, by a facile hand. But it is beneath the attention of a major symphonic organization, especially on its principal series. The same can be said of the "Nutcracker" Suite.

The Reviewer Seymour Raven continues his pattern of critically analyzing the programming philosophy of the orchestra, rather than just the performance execution. He sharply divides the concert into two halves: "solid musical worth" vs. "questionable in terms of a symphony orchestra’s proper objectives".
The Program
•    The "Questionable" Half: Raven argues that Morton Gould’s Serenade of Carols and Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite, while pleasant ("wholesome tunes," "facile hand"), are "beneath the attention of a major symphonic organization, especially on its principal series". This reflects a strict view of the "canon" prevalent among critics of that era, where lighter works were often relegated to "Pops" concerts.
•    Beethoven: The performance of the Third Piano Concerto receives a mixed review. Raven praises the collaboration in the first two movements as "virile and poetic," crediting soloist Rudolf Firkusny with leveling off Kubelik's "characteristic overaccentuation". However, the finale is criticized as "coarse grained," with Beethoven made to "scratch around".
•    Vivaldi: The specific Vivaldi work is identified as a "Concerto Grosso in A major," arranged by Angelo Ephrikian.

1, 2 January 1953

Rafael Kubelik, conductor
Milton Preves, viola

Berwald        Symphony No. 3, ‘Singulière’
Bloch        Suite Hebraïque for viola and orchestra
Mussorgsky        Pictures at an Exhibition (orch. Ravel)

Here is the transcription of the review for the concerts on January 1 and 2, 1953, followed by the concert record and commentary.
Transcription

On the Aisle Preves' Bloch Suite and Moussorgsky "Pictures" In Kubelik Farewell BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

FOR his midseason farewell, a kind of auf wiedersehen as he takes six weeks' leave of the Chicago Symphony orchestra and Orchestra hall to fly to Amsterdam and the Concertgebouw, Rafael Kubelik chose one of his more effective showpieces, the Moussorgsky-Ravel "Pictures At An Exhibition," and two works new to the repertory, Ernest Bloch’s Suite Hebraique for Viola and Orchestra, with Milton Preves as soloist, and the Sinfonie Singuliere of the Swedish composer, Franz Berwald, a contemporary of Franz Schubert’s in time, if not in timelessness.

The Bloch Suite is a rearrangement of some of the Jewish Pieces written in gratitude for the Bloch festival held here in 1951, with three movements labeled processional, affirmation and rapsodie. It is marked by the composer’s integrity as a musician rather than by the inspiration that sometimes blazes in his music.

Yet it is effective enough—dark, wailing wall music clean in line and oriental in sound, with a processional in which the solo instrument takes on some of the curious dignity of the ceremonial bagpipe. The performance, like the music, was dark, direct and to the point, with Mr. Preves reminding anyone who might have forgotten that he has an uncommonly big and beautiful viola tone.

The Berwald will have to go down as another enigma in the Kubelik choice of program fare. If you are curious about a piece of music written in Sweden in 1844, you will find it innocuous, neatly put together, with nothing particular to say, which it says for about 25 minutes.

The Moussorgsky, of course, was no puzzle at all. It is a big, resounding showpiece which probably comes off best of all the sizable works Mr. Kubelik has tackled here. He brings out much of its sound and some of its drama, and the orchestra is often a pleasure to hear. The fact that his is also a flatfooted performance is not always a drawback—the lumbering of the oxcart in particular finds that a help.

But the difference between Mr. Kubelik’s and a virtuoso’s "Pictures"—a score suggested by the virtuoso, Koussevitzky—is that he is unable to place his orchestra in equilibrium, and so he has a succession of episodes always getting off to a fresh start, rather than a sweeping performance of cumulative and climactic design.

Next week, Guido Cantelli, first of the season’s guest conductors, makes his Chicago debut.

Commentary
Midseason Farewell This concert served as Kubelik's "midseason farewell" before taking a six-week leave to conduct the Concertgebouw Orchestra in Amsterdam.
The Critique Claudia Cassidy remains critical of Kubelik's programming and technical command, though she acknowledges the effectiveness of the finale.
•    Berwald: She dismisses the Sinfonie singulière as an "enigma" in programming choice, describing it as "innocuous" and having "nothing particular to say" for its 25-minute duration.
•    Bloch: The performance of Bloch's Suite hébraïque (a rearrangement of earlier pieces) is praised largely for the soloist. Cassidy notes the music is "dark, direct and to the point" and highlights that principal violist Milton Preves displayed an "uncommonly big and beautiful viola tone".
•    Mussorgsky: Cassidy admits this is likely the best of the "sizable works" Kubelik has conducted, praising the "resounding" sound and drama. However, she ultimately judges it inferior to a "virtuoso's" interpretation (invoking Koussevitzky), arguing that Kubelik's "flatfooted" approach results in a "succession of episodes" rather than a unified "cumulative and climactic design".
Coming Attractions The review concludes by noting the upcoming Chicago debut of guest conductor Guido Cantelli the following week.

Here is the transcription of the review for the concerts on January 8 and 9, 1953, followed by the concert record and commentary.
Transcription

On the Aisle Cantelli Wins Triumph With Brilliant Debut In Orchestra Hall BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

JUST WHAT IT IS, the spark that sets some artists blazing, nobody knows. But Guido Cantelli has it, and last night his Chicago debut ignited music, the Chicago Symphony orchestra, his audience, and of course himself as torch in Orchestra hall. A narrow, high shouldered, equilateral triangle with the head and hands of Nijinsky’s faun, this 32 year old Italian did not set the house shouting because he bears the Toscanini accolade, "myself as a young man." When he came out on the stage he won a courteous, friendly welcome, no more.

But his Haydn stirred quick response, his Hindemith an ovation, his Tschaikowsky the magnetic attraction that pulls listeners forward in their chairs. This was living, exciting, rewarding music.

If the spark is indefinable, what clears the conducting air for it is not. Cantelli has a classic clarity of style, he prefers the classic seating that puts the second violins opposite the first—"the two equal shoulders" of the orchestra, in the Toscanini phrase. He uses a baton, his beat is clear but never pedantic or dry—there is even an operatic curve to it when he needs it. His left hand—the closed fingers, extended thumb of the faun—is both incisive and imploring. He makes a few gestures, all of them within the orbit of reserve, yet he has eloquence, a sense of dramatic fusion and cumulative climax. His is an inner lyricism, a refusal to force or exaggerate the lyric line, which of course rewards him by falling naturally into place. There is no fat on his orchestral tone, and nothing fatuous in it; it has a sinewy strength, a translucence of singing line, a direct communication. In more ways than one this fiercely dark young man reminds me of a fiercely dark young contemporary, William Kapell.

It was interesting to me how much more vivid Cantelli was in Orchestra hall than the one time I heard him [tho it was a good concert] in Carnegie hall. Our wide stage is a trial to visiting conductors—one once told me he thought he would have to telegraf the double basses—but it does have more personal impact. Here you could see quite plainly how urgently Cantelli wanted to communicate his music, with what skill he went about it, and with what a surge of virtuosity the orchestra recognized his worth.

There are so many Haydn symphonies a conductor can add one to any repertory—in this case the D major, No. 93. Cantelli chose a subtle one that pretends to be austere, only to melt into enchanting little scraps of song. He played it with dignity, with reserve, but he let it melt, too. Another rehearsal would have done the Tschaikowsky Fifth no harm, as it too was essentially subtle in performance. Still, there was no missing the instinct for pacing, the way of ending one movement and beginning another so that the line of communication was never broken, the shadow play of the waltz, and the mounting tension to almost hypnotic climax.

But to my ears the crest of the concert was "Mathis der Maler," Hindemith’s superb symphony, to me so much more effective than the opera version the composer presented in a Vienna concert last summer. The triptych from the great altarpiece at Isenheim is magnificent music, and it was magnificently played. The linear strength, the curious vertical thrustings, the massive solidity, the mystical transparency — all were there. And I never heard the sinewy opening phrase of the last movement more perfectly poised and thrust.

A pity Mr. Cantelli has just this pair of concerts. But leave the door on the latch, with the welcome mat dusted.

Commentary
The Debut This review documents the dazzling Chicago debut of Guido Cantelli, the 32-year-old Italian protégé of Arturo Toscanini. The headline "Cantelli Wins Triumph" marks a stark departure from the lukewarm or hostile reviews often given to Kubelik during this season.
The Critique
•    Style: Cassidy is enamored with Cantelli's physical presence ("head and hands of Nijinsky's faun") and his technical precision. She approves of his use of "classic seating" (split violins), noting it "clears the conducting air."
•    The Crest: She identifies Hindemith's Mathis der Maler symphony as the highlight ("crest") of the concert, praising its "linear strength" and "mystical transparency."
•    The Tchaikovsky: While noting that "another rehearsal would have done the Tschaikowsky Fifth no harm," she admits the performance had a "magnetic attraction" and achieved an "almost hypnotic climax."
Historical Context The review ends with an invitation to return ("leave the door on the latch"). Tragically, Cantelli's promising career was cut short when he died in a plane crash near Paris in 1956, just one week after being named Music Director of La Scala.

15, 16 January 1953

Otto Klemperer, conductor

Mozart    Serenata notturna
Mozart    Symphony No. 29
Bruckner    Symphony No. 7

Transcription

On the Aisle Klemperer, Still Man of Big Music, Returns to Orchestra Hall BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

A BIG MAN of music and a man of big music are not necessarily the same thing, but Otto Klemperer was both when he came as guest conductor of the Chicago Symphony orchestra 15 years ago. Then a towering man of tremendous vitality, his programs ranged from Bach to Stravinsky and a fiery Tschaikowsky Concerto with Artur Rubinstein. I remember someone saying he looked at least 6 feet, 8 inches tall, and when he got around to Beethoven he had breadth to match.

Illness beset him and I did not hear him again, not even when he came to Ravinia last summer, tho I saw him at Salzburg’s Mozarteum, sitting on the stage and watching an unfortunate conductor who was in trouble enough without that. But he was still a man of big music when he returned yesterday to Orchestra hall, and I am told his physical condition is much improved since Ravinia, tho he carries two canes to aid his walking and he sits when he conducts. Meanwhile, the difference in his music then and now seems primarily to be a matter of that impaired vitality. It has stature and scope, understanding and skill, but at least in this concert it lacked the old sweep and vigor, the vitalizing momentum that carries a score to triumph.

This was especially true of the long Bruckner Seventh, which I had hoped would rival my memories of Furtwaengler’s Eighth. It was fine, strong Bruckner as far as it went, put together section by section with a wealth of solid sound. It respected the man’s worth, carried no trace of sentimentality, and demolished accusations of flatulence. But it somehow cut to the core of the music without reaching its heart, and it assembled the design without sensing Bruckner’s passionate desires to pierce the heavens. Bruckner shorn of the maudlin is a relief, but Bruckner without passionate mysticism is Bruckner without faith. Perhaps the midweek repetitions will show us the difference.

For Mr. Klemperer knows the difference. You could hear it in his "Coriolanus," noble Beethoven, and, especially in its reluctant signature, true overture to tragedy. You could hear it in the serene classicism of his Haydn, rich in smiling phrases, especially when the symphony tells you so literally why it is called "The Clock."

Commentary
Date and Program Discrepancy Although your request listed the program for the Thursday/Friday subscription concerts (January 15-16), which featured two Mozart works, this review describes the Tuesday afternoon concert on January 13, 1953. This is evidenced by Cassidy's discussion of Beethoven's Coriolan Overture and Haydn's Clock Symphony, as well as her opening remark that Klemperer "returned yesterday" (implying the review appeared on Wednesday, Jan 14). It was common practice for the Tuesday series to feature a slightly different program than the midweek subscription pair.
The Conductor's Return This concert marked Otto Klemperer's return to the Chicago Symphony after a 15-year absence. Cassidy explicitly references his health struggles; Klemperer had undergone surgery for a brain tumor in 1939, which left him partially paralyzed and required him to conduct while seated (as noted in the text: "he carries two canes... and he sits when he conducts").
The Critique Cassidy acknowledges Klemperer's "stature and scope" but finds the performance lacking the "vitalizing momentum" of his pre-war years.
•    Bruckner: She compares his Bruckner Seventh unfavorably to her memories of Wilhelm Furtwängler's Bruckner Eighth. While she appreciates that it was "shorn of the maudlin," she ultimately feels it was "Bruckner without faith."
•    Beethoven & Haydn: She is warmer toward the first half of the program, praising the "noble" Beethoven and the "serene classicism" of the Haydn.

22, 23 January 1953

George Schick, conductor

Creston    Two Choric Dances
Schumann    Overture, Scherzo and Finale
Richard Strauss    An Alpine Symphony
Transcription

On the Aisle Dull Concert Revives Bloated Alpine Symphony By Richard Strauss BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

MAYBE a man can't always play what he chooses. Probably George Schick, associate conductor of the Chicago Symphony orchestra, was limited in repertory after Rafael Kubelik and the guest conductors had their pick. But the orchestra’s repertory is enormous—much larger than its present conductors'—and how he could end up with last night’s Orchestra hall program is genuinely a mystery, especially as no one seemed to care what it cost. It held three of the duller pieces he could dig up, one of them Richard Strauss' overblown Alpine Symphony, mercifully shelved since the orchestra played it in the season 1916-17 when it was new. This 45 minutes of labored reminiscence asks for an organ, four harps, eight horns, and other multiples to match.

The other items were Paul Creston's Two Choric Dances swollen out of their original chamber music shape, so that they seem to have orchestral mumps, and Schumann's Overture, Scherzo and Finale, one of those lame ducks only its family could love. Schumann said of it, "The whole has a light, friendly character. I wrote it in a really gay mood." And his Clara got mad at Liszt when his playing stole a Weimar concert from the piece. Well, of course, it stole the concert from her playing, too, but she didn't mention that. She said, "As a composer I could almost hate him." Funny how families rush squawking the defend the lame ducks.

What Mrs. Strauss said, if anything, in defense of the Alpine Symphony, I don't know. But tho Strauss was then just past 50, and he wrote it in 100 days, it gave the world the justifiable idea that he was thru. The man who had poured out "Salome," "Elektra," "Rosenkavalier," "Don Juan," "Heldenleben," "Zarathustra" and "Don Quixote," was simply repeating himself, only not saying it so well, and with more instruments. Especially toward the end, when he got so wistful about "Rosenkavalier" [which Fritz Reiner was at that moment conducting at the Met], I could have been very sad in 1916. But Strauss did get his second wind, tho it never matched the first. A pity his 85 years could not have stretched to last summer at Salzburg when Clemens Krauss turned his "The Love of Danae" into a shower of orchestral gold.

No such shower here, alas, just plodding performance, with interludes when the orchestra took off on its own virtuoso momentum. I don't think I ever heard that orchestra clomp along so [there must be such a word, I just made it up] resignedly as in the Schumann finale.

The Program
•    Strauss: This performance of An Alpine Symphony was a rarity; Cassidy notes it had been "mercifully shelved" since the 1916–17 season. She describes the massive orchestration required ("organ, four harps, eight horns") as "labored reminiscence" that signaled to the world that Strauss was "thru" (finished) as a composer.
•    Creston: Paul Creston’s Two Choric Dances are dismissed as having "orchestral mumps"—a witty way of saying the orchestration was too swollen for the musical content, which originated as chamber music.
•    Schumann: The Overture, Scherzo and Finale is labeled a "lame duck" that "only its family could love".
The Conductor George Schick, the associate conductor, bears the brunt of the criticism for the "dull" program, though Cassidy acknowledges he may have been "limited in repertory" after Kubelik and guest conductors took the prime choices. Her description of the orchestra "clomping along... resignedly" suggests a lack of inspiration from the podium.
Fritz Reiner Connection Interestingly, Cassidy mentions Fritz Reiner in the text, noting that he was "at that moment conducting Rosenkavalier at the Met". This is significant because Reiner had already been announced as the next music director of the Chicago Symphony (as seen in the review for Dec 11, 1952), and Cassidy often used such references to subtly contrast the current leadership with the incoming regime.

29, 30 January 1953

Bruno Walter, conductor

Wagner    Der fliegende Holländer, Overture
Mozart    Symphony No. 38, ‘Prague’
Richard Strauss    Till Eulenspiegel
Brahms    Symphony No. 1

Here is the transcription of the review for the concerts on January 29 and 30, 1953, followed by the concert record and commentary.
Transcription

On the Aisle Bruno Walter Speaks Familiar Musical Language in Orchestra Hall BY CLAUDIA CASSIDY

TO THOSE WHO REMEMBER, Bruno Walter’s concerts with the Chicago Symphony orchestra have long been a reassurance, but they can be something deeper than that—they can be like coming home. Especially this week in Orchestra hall he has spoken a musical language so familiarly a part of the orchestra’s tradition that last night after Strauss’ "Till Eulenspiegel" I heard a man say, "That’s the nearest thing to Stock’s since Stock himself." I don’t know, for I hurried out when the concert was over, but he may have said just that about the Brahms First, too.

It is not that you ever would have called Frederick Stock and Bruno Walter twins, musical or otherwise. But you would have found dignity in common, and simplicity, deep rooted European background, and a quiet universality of style. In these special concerts those who knew Stock must have been reminded of that basic, rock ribbed strength, too, that spaciousness of development both cumulative and climactic, a superbly tactical maneuvering of resources for apocalyptic attack. It made me think of a stage director I know who, when someone complains that a good speech is too long, tells the actor, "Take it slower. He means he can’t hear what you say."

Mr. Walter let us hear what they say, the Wagner, the Mozart and the Strauss he repeated from Tuesday’s concert, the Brahms he substituted for the earlier Beethoven. Nothing dragged, but it took its time—and the time flew. "The Flying Dutchman" swept the salty spaces of sea and sky. The "Prague," surely the most difficult of all Mozart symphonies to sustain, had a wonderful spaciousness of spirit. But "Till" was the evening’s virtuoso triumph. It was a big, beautiful, shining performance, rich in eloquent detail, yet all of a vivid piece. "Nothing the matter with that orchestra," people were saying, and they were right.

Still, the Brahms was my favorite of all. True, the orchestra was not quite back in the old groove of huge round tone with the color of purple grapes at harvest time. How could it be? But it did conjure much of the old dusky, burnished, streaming sound that has made its Brahms magnificent. And Mr. Walter had his sights on the apocalyptic. It was a big, two fisted performance of enormous impact, and it was like home again in Orchestra hall.

Commentary
The Return of "Stock's Orchestra" Claudia Cassidy uses this review to reinforce her preferred narrative: that the orchestra's struggles were due to leadership, not personnel. By inviting the guest conductor Bruno Walter—a revered link to the European tradition—she highlights the orchestra's latent ability. She quotes a patron comparing the sound favorably to the era of Frederick Stock ("That's the nearest thing to Stock's since Stock himself").
Vindication of the Players Crucially, she reports the audience sentiment: "Nothing the matter with that orchestra". This serves as a direct rebuttal to any defense of the outgoing music director (Kubelik) that might blame the ensemble's quality.
Descriptive Style This review contains one of Cassidy's most famous descriptions of the "Chicago Sound" she longed for: a "huge round tone with the color of purple grapes at harvest time". She admits the orchestra isn't quite back there yet, but credits Walter with conjuring the "dusky, burnished, streaming sound" of old.
Program Note The review mentions that the Brahms (Symphony No. 1) was substituted for the Beethoven symphony that had been played on the previous Tuesday's concert.