The Orchestra Maker

The best symphony orchestras are not necessarily the long-established veterans --and no one likes to prove the point more often than veteran Conductor Leopold Stokowski. Since he left his post as principal conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1936, he has organized more front-rank orchestras than some conductors face in a lifetime. Now 80, Stokowski is still up to his old tricks: in its third concert of the season last week, Stokowski's newly organized American Symphony Orchestra demonstrated to a cheering audience that it rivals the very best.

The wonder of the new orchestra is that a third of its players are fresh out of conservatories. The youngest is 18, and the group has played together no more than 30 hours. But Stokowski has an almost uncanny way of making instrumentalists play better than their best; he is as adept as ever at juggling his seating arrangements to produce the lush orchestral effects that are now so easily recognized as the Stokowski Sound.

In last week's concert at Carnegie Hall the orchestra offered a haunting, evocative reading of Debussy's Six Epigraphes Antiques, a relaxed, singing Brahms's Symphony No. 2, a beautifully articulated Petite Symphonic Concertante by contemporary Swiss Composer Frank Martin. Stokowski led his 95 musicians with the surgically precise gestures of the hand, the long, scythelike sweeps of the arm that are as familiar to concertgoers as the white-maned profile. At concert's end, in response to the cheers, Stokowski announced a "Christmas present" encore --his own arrangement of old and traditional Russian Christmas music.

Stokowski began to think about forming his newest orchestra two years ago.

He started holding auditions and putting the bite on his friends for contributions. He listened to a total of 200 young instrumentalists in his penthouse on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue, hired the outstanding performers and put the rest on a waiting list. To fill out the orchestra with more experienced players, Stokowski consulted what is probably the most extensive talent file in all music: his own loose-leaf notebook in which he has evaluated every instrumentalist and singer who has ever performed with him--about 1,700 of them.

He was ready for rehearsals by last October, and wherever he could he sat the youngsters next to the veterans, on the theory that the enthusiasm of one would rub off on the experience of the other. But there is more than seating arrangement to account for the transformation of an assorted group of musicians into a symphony orchestra. Stokowski tunes differently from other conductors: instead of asking the oboe for an A by which the whole orchestra tunes, he asks for an A for woodwinds, a B-flat for the brasses, an A again for the strings. The three sections tune separately. Nor does Stokowski, like most conductors, stop the orchestra in mid-flight during practice sessions; he plays through a composition from beginning to end, making copious notes, then consults his notes before pointing out where the orchestra went wrong. Courteous and patient with his orchestra, he is also given to sharply pointed remarks when he thinks that a musician is performing 'at less than his best. At a recent rehearsal he remarked dryly to one culprit: "You are a good player, but you don't play well."

The aging master has no more qualms than he ever did about tampering with the instrumentation of the masters to achieve the sound he wants. "You must realize," he says, "that Beethoven and Brahms did not understand instruments. Composers like Ravel, Debussy and Mozart did." Nor can he see why the high professional gloss of his new orchestra should cause surprise. Says Stokowski: "It's a misunderstanding that an orchestra must be together for a long time; some orchestras have been together for a century and still cannot play well."

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