From mid-nineteenth to mid-twentieth century there was little change in functions and job description. Prior to the jet plane the conductor in America was hired to be the virtual dictator of the symphony orchestra. Major orchestra seasons were approximately thirty weeks long. This did not include summer seasons, which were not always managed or supported by the winter management and whose length, salaries, repertoire differed considerably in each city. The permanent conductor was expected to be on the job during the winter (30 week) season for all but a short 3 to 5 week period of guest conductors. The state-of-the-art transportation of pre WW2 - railroad and steamship - did not allow anyone the quick or frequent displacements which now rule our civilization. Being "on the job" meant programming, preparing all the music (twenty to twenty-three or four programs), hiring and firing musicians, selecting soloists, making all future plans, not to mention the ever-present nightmare of fund-raising, and other seemingly minor but no less time consuming obligations. Many of these functions have been abandoned by conductors in favor of an inter-continental existence which is certainly more pleasant but which leave many functions critical to the life of a symphony orchestra to others.

These functions have been taken over by Executive Directors, Personal Representatives, the recording industry, and, in a very interesting and perhaps most critical way, by the performing musicians themselves. The gradual shifts in authority over this extensive period are now manifest in the present-day major symphony orchestra - impersonal, superbly efficient, virtually interchangeable groups producing the present-day "corporate sound", increasingly devoid of distinctive personalities.

America can justifiably be proud of having created symphony orchestras that were admired and imitated by the entire world. Each of these orchestras had a very special personal identity representing the profound differences in the personalities of the orchestral players as well as the men whose names were synonymous with the orchestras they led - Reiner and Chicago, Toscanini and New York, Stokowski and Philadelphia, Szell and Cleveland, Koussevitsky and Boston. The argument is NOT that these men alone were capable of imposing such an imprint on an orchestra. It is simply that the presence of a single dominant personality over an extended period will create a unique sound and style that makes one orchestra different from any other. The lack of such presence guarantees the sound-alike, look-alike syndrome which is the present day "state-of-the-art". Those who choose to say there was no "Philadelphia sound" or no "Boston sound" are showing their youth or their ignorance, or both. Yes, Koussevitsky's or Stokowski's "sound" could and would be changed but the fact remains that long and consistent tenures made, for those periods and quite a while afterwards, the cities' names and the conductors' names inseparable.

The role of the performing musician in this transition has been significant but, to a large degree, curiously involuntary. The orchestras of the twenties and thirties played many fewer concerts. A substantial portion of the repertory (Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Stravinsky, Barber, Bartok, Copland, Britten, to name a few) was either new and unfamiliar, or not yet written. Mahler and Bruckner were novelties in America. As these and other works entered the repertory a huge learning process for orchestra players was taking place. This process of learning meant that the first performances of each of these works bore the profound imprint of the conductor, there being no previous experience that the musicians could bring to the initial performance - experience they then would bring to subsequent performances, regardless of the conductor. Many, many works were undertaken with the clear understanding that extra rehearsals were required and would be provided by the management. As these and other difficult works were performed more frequently, musicians acquired the knowledge and security that allowed subsequent performances with fewer and fewer rehearsals. Perhaps the most dramatic example being the legendary 38 rehearsals required at the beginning of this century for the first performance of Stravinsky's "The Rite of Spring", to the fact that by 1965 any one of America's five major orchestras could - and did, if necessary, perform the same work with one rehearsal.

The education, expertise and experience of today's symphonic musicians has paradoxically placed less and less responsibility on the conductor for many of the artistic aspects of the performance. Neither the critics nor the public can know, nor should be expected to know the extent to which the vacuum of artistic responsibility for the concert has been filled by the performing musicians themselves. (The phrase "performing musician" is used to distinguish the orchestra musician from the conductor who does not make a sound during a concert). Today our major orchestras are capable of, and do frequently perform a large part of the repertory with little or no rehearsal at an artistic level acceptable to most of the public, at the same time satisfying the corporate demands for more concerts, fewer rehearsals, thus, to the corporate mind, more profits. But more to the point, with the reduction in rehearsal time in order to play more concerts and with the dramatic improvement in the overall abilities of the orchestra players, present-day concerts are more often than not on an artistic level that represents much more the expertise, experience and artistic abilities of the orchestra players than those of the conductor.

Adam Carse, in "The Orchestra from Beethoven to Berlioz" gives us the following insight into the role of the conductor in the early part of the 19th Century: "The individuality or personality of the conductor was an aspect of his art which was as yet hardly recognized by the middle of last century. The interest was still centered in the music rather (than) the conductor's rendering of it. The performance might be better or worse in the case of different orchestras and conductors, but that was a matter of technical proficiency. The good orchestra gave a good performance because the players were technically well equipped and the conductor knew his business, but it is difficult to find at that time anything to suggest that the conductor ever came in between the music and the listener to the extent of impressing his own personality on the rendering of the piece. Virtuosity in instrumentalists and singers was recognized and greatly appreciated, but not in conductors. The public would crowd into a, building in order to hear this or that artist play or sing; they would go for the purpose of hearing this or that work performed, but they did not go to hear any particular conductor's rendering of the music". It cannot be overlooked that the above description of the role of the conductor was during a period when many of the greatest masterpieces of the orchestral literature were created and successfully presented to the world. The temptation is to move quickly to Hans Christian Andersen's story. "The Emperor's New Clothes". This would not be fair or true. The fact remains that however great the orchestra there will never be a truly great performance without a great conductor. It is also axiomatic that a great conductor can produce a great performance with a lesser orchestra. But the magic equation stops there. A lesser conductor with a great or lesser orchestra will never reach the "Olympian Heights" no matter how the PR is managed or funded. The problem is simply that there are not many great conductors. Many of those plying their trade are not on a level of the abilities of the orchestra they are conducting. The more the conductors, managers, recording companies etc. of today's world rely on the expertise of the performing musician in their pursuit of higher fees, more profits, greater benefits for a very, very few, the sooner will this cycle go full circle to the days so succinctly documented by Adam Carse.

In the vocabulary of the world of music "good" does not mean unique, great, sublime, inspiring, or any other words that came to mind after a concert with Toscanini, Stokowski or Koussevitsky with their orchestras. The schedule of sixty to seventy years ago generally provided a two-concert week with concerts one day apart. One of these concerts was viewed by the musicians (and the conductor) as a dress rehearsal or a repeat, the other being THE event of the week - the culmination of intensive preparation of only one program for that week, carrying with it the excitement of an artistic achievement. This engendered an attitude for all involved which, with today's four to five concerts a week with at least two or three programs, simply no longer exists.

A model of the achievement of the homogeneous sound and style in the present-day symphonic world is perhaps best reflected in the changes in the process of making records. The old 78s were made from a wax-like matrix with each side of a 12 inch record capable of reproducing approximately 4 minutes of music. The recording sessions were, for the musicians, very demanding and nerve-wracking. If a mistake was made in the course of the 4 minutes it could be corrected only by re- making the entire four minutes. This process in itself was fraught with the additional danger that a different element of the orchestra could make a mistake during the remake thus compounding tension - tension due primarily to the cost of paying 100 men virtually by the minute. Because of this very severe limitation for remakes or corrections it must be pointed out that the old 78's are infinitely more honest representations of the abilities of a soloist or symphony orchestra.

The conductor's contribution to this "personality" is of paramount importance. In addition to the individual interpretations he brings to each work, there are numerous factors, unknown and un-noticed by the general public, that can and do give a different sound and personality to any orchestra. However most of these cannot be imposed and/or changed on a weekly basis with any degree of effectiveness. Styles of bowing for strings, seating configurations, types of instruments used, dominant repertoire (classical, romantic, contemporary) - all of these factors, when cultivated and sustained over long periods by a single, strong-willed person, result in an orchestra of a unique, recognizable personality.

Needless to say, money is the dominant factor in every change that eventually deprives an orchestra of its distinctive qualities. The music related changes that have taken place as the result of the arrival of "corporate management" affect the artistic qualities of an orchestra as well as the attitudes and quality of life of the players. The fact that the more perceptive portion of the listening public is already aware of the effect of all these changes is amply documented in Will Crutchfield's excellent and perceptive New York Times article "Orchestras in the Age of Jet-Set Sound". Norman Labrecht's recent publication "The Maestro Myth" adds much credence to the existence of this pernicious problem, particularly in relation to the financial attitudes of conductors and Artist's Agents. The enormous, and in many instances unwarranted, financial burdens that the corporatespread has engendered are reaching a point where they threaten the very existence of many symphony orchestras of America, some of whom have already succumbed to the pressures.

The number of weekly services of a symphony orchestra has not changed much in the last 70 years - 8 to 10. The telling change has taken place in the distribution between concerts and rehearsals of these services. Where 8 services were once divided as 6 rehearsals and 2 concerts with one program per week, we now have 3 or 4 rehearsals and 4 to 5 concerts with at least 2 and sometimes 3 different programs per week. The rationale is to increase audience capacity and thus help cover increasing labor costs. As with most labor intensive industries, increases in the costs of labor have far outrun the industry's ability to absorb the rising costs (costs for symphony orchestras and opera include conductors and soloists as well as orchestra members and administration).

The current fund-raising plea for symphony orchestras is that "a full house only pays for onehalf of the costs". In the present economic climate (with some nudging from Japan) we are hearing that the "cost" of a CEO should represent the importance of this person's presence as it relates to the financial success of the organization. The truth of the matter is that, as in all the Arts, success cannot be defined in a manner acceptable to all or even a reasonable percentage of the public - except in its money making capacity. But the ability of an artist - in our case a conductor - to make money has precious little to do with art. This falls more in the area of PR and ultimately to the mysterious whims of the public, very heavily influenced by the acclaim (or lack of it) of the critics.

These "mysterious whims" of the public and the media have launched the costs of major league .permanent" conductors into areas of from 15 to 25 times the cost of the yearly salary of one orchestra member who, as with all orchestra members, is committed to a 52 week season. But  there is no conductor of any major American orchestra performing with his orchestra more than 20 weeks out of 52 - most considerably less - sometimes as few as 6 or 8 out of 52, still remaining the 15 to 25 to 1 ratio. If one figures in the factor of the amount of money received relative to the time spent "at home" the ratio will immediately jump to 40 to 50 to 1. While the orchestras now play more concerts and more programs the conductors spend less and less time with "their orchestras". One present-day orchestra member has aptly used the pony express as a metaphor: "While in the pony express and mail coach days the riders made the full trip but changed horses frequently - nowadays the rider changes frequently but we keep the same horses!" This absentee-ism requires management to hire other conductors to fill the remaining major portion of the season with the very substantial budget increase the work-style imposes. It can, of course, be easily documented that heads of worldclass corporations frequently have salaries from 50 to 150 times more than an employee. There is, however, one difference, and it is monumental. Most of these corporations can or do make money and symphony orchestras and operas do not. Therefore by the symphonic organizations own definition, 50% of their income is, in spite of all the euphemisms, charity. There are very few, if any, musicians among the present-day stars who were born with silver spoons in their mouths. When one views the published salary information of America's conductors and soloists it would appear that the transition from youthful days of study - the traditional period of idealism, "art-for-art's-sake", etc. - to the podium or soloists spotlight, has a chilling effect on the altruism and idealism on behalf of one's art.

But 'responsibility' does not automatically mean that such party has the authority or ability (or desire) to change. In our case, if one follows Harry Truman's dictum "The Buck Stops Here," the responsibility for mismanagement is that of the legally designated "owners" of the organization - the Board of Directors. The Boards of symphony orchestras, and other non-profit art organizations (schools included), cannot escape the ultimate responsibility for allowing these things to happen. Norman Labrecht quotes "one pragmatic maestro" as saying "I don't see why people expect conductors (or others) to behave differently or better than the rest of the world". That is precisely the point - we don't. The mandated function of every governing body is to see to it that its Board members, employees and the businesses with whom they deal do behave properly.

Given the constancy and fervor of human greed and the inconstancy in support of the arts, if the corporate policies continue there is little doubt as to how accounts will be settled when it comes time "to pay the fiddler". 13