The Berliners

The 73-year-old Berlin Philharmonic is up to its white ties in tradition. Its first renowned conductor was Hans von Buelow, distinguished among other things for the fact that his wife Cosima ran away with (and eventually married) Richard Wagner. Johannes Brahms played with the Philharmonic as a piano soloist, and the famed Arthur Nikisch became its conductor in time to take the orchestra to Moscow for the coronation of Czar Nicholas II in 1896. In the next half a century, a lot of things went out of the world, including czars, and Germany became famed for other names than Brahms, but the Berliners managed to go on making music --for much of the last 33 years under the late great Wilhelm Furtwangler.

Last week the Berlin Philharmonic started its first U.S. tour. Its conductor: Herbert von Karajan, who was chosen to take the orchestra on the trip after Furtwangler died last fall. In its programs the Berlin Philharmonic stuck rigidly to tradition. Its selections in New York last week were downright condescending: Haydn's Symphony No. 104, Prelude and Love Death from Wagner's Tristan und Isolde and Beethoven's Symphony No: 5. The Berliners seemed determined to show the New World how the old classical war horses should be tamed.

Through the evening the orchestra had a mellower, thicker tone than its great U.S. colleagues. Its string section sounded as sweet and intimate as a string quartet, its winds included a solo flute and solo oboe of melting beauty, and its brasses played with a polished but slightly lethargic quality. Conductor von Karajan, lean and dapper, planted his feet firmly, took a stance with elbows bent as if carrying an invisible basket of flowers. His style was mannered--in his most ardent moments he bent stiffly from the waist and closed his eyes--and he gave the impression of overseeing the music rather than participating in it. When the score called for a punchy chord, his baton descended as if through a barrel of oil, and the orchestra hesitated a full second before it sounded.

The result was a fine, Old-World performance that rarely surged with excitement but was lovingly correct and sometimes glowed with insight. Most appealing moment: the slow movement of the Beethoven, in which the strings sang their melodies against trickling woodwinds. When it was over, the crowd shouted its approval, and the orchestra gave an encore: the Overture to Tannhduser. Von Karajan accepted a basket of chrysanthemums, plucked one and presented it to his concertmaster.

Salzburg-born Herbert von Karajan, 46, began his career as a pianist, became conductor of a small opera house (at Ulm) when he was 21. Today he is regarded as one of the world's finest conductors, but personally one of the most difficult. In 1939 he began a running musical feud with Furtwangler. In 1948, when both men were conducting the Vienna Philharmonic, Von Karajan left when he lost a battle over rehearsal rights. Later, he also abandoned Salzburg to his older rival, took refuge in Bayreuth, which he left in turn after he insisted on changing some of Wagner's most sacred musical traditions. Last week at last, Von Karajan formally replaced his old rival, agreed to become the Berlin Philharmonic's permanent conductor.*

Von Karajan's most ticklish personal problem: his membership (1933 to 1942) in the Nazi Party, which brought protests against his tour from members of Manhattan's musicians' union and the Jewish War Veterans. Pickets around Carnegie Hall chanted: "Send the Nazis home!" Replied Von Karajan in effect: public figures had to become Nazis under Hitler in order to get along. Before continuing his tour (it will take the Berliners as far west as Milwaukee, as far north as Montreal), Von Karajan declared: "I have nothing to say about politics. I occupy myself with music."

*But he will continue to commute to London for frequent appearances with the famed Philharmonia Orchestra, and to Milan for La Scala opera.

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