Bouncing Briton's Baton

After gloomily pronouncing Manhattan an unmusical city, big, brooding Otto Klemperer boarded a train for Los Angeles last week to take command of a Philharmonic Orchestra where audiences roundly hail him as a hero. During a 13-week session the towering German had led the New York Philharmonic through many a scholarly performance. In his wake a Carnegie Hall concert was called for 8:45 p. m. At 8:44 p. m. there came sauntering through the stage entrance a short, top-heavy man with piercing brown eyes, a militant goatee, a bland, self-assured manner. It was Sir Thomas Beecham's turn to conduct the big Manhattan orchestra.

Sir Thomas did not pop a suspender button last week as he did at his first Philharmonic concert in 1928. He was not suffering from gout nor had he tumbled into the first violins at rehearsal (TIME, March 14, 1932). But Sir Thomas always affords sure entertainment. He strolled on stage as casually as if he were taking an everyday turn in the park. He bowed leisurely, shrewdly appraised his audience. Then with a bounce he was up on the stand, swinging his baton as if it were a cricket bat, crouching, dancing, shaking his fist, whipping along a performance which, from beginning to end, was extraordinarily vital.

Sir Thomas was obviously having fun. So was the audience, which has come to realize that with all his antics he is a true musician with a firm, direct beat, a rare sense of rhythm, a clear conception of everything he plays. Except for a youthful Mozart symphony Sir Thomas presented an all-British program. An overture by the redoubtable Dame Ethel Smyth was commonplace noise. Delius was represented by a sensitive, finely spun dance from Koanga, a delicate serenade from Hassan. Vaughan Williams' London Symphony has seldom been made so eloquent, with its suggestion of the ever-rolling Thames, the gay street scenes leading up to a grim hunger march, the solemn, chimes of Big Ben. After Elgar's rollicking Cockaigne overture there were cheers for Sir Thomas, who suddenly appeared as unconcerned as when he made his entrance.

Audiences never tire of talking about Britain's No. 1 conductor. His father was Sir Joseph Beecham, an amateur veterinarian who made a fortune with patent pills, earned a baronetcy with his many philanthropies and still left plenty for his son to squander on music. Sir Thomas once went bankrupt for the sake of music in England. At a conservative estimate his losses have amounted to over $10,000,000.

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