CONCERT HALL OF THE CENTURY


The 2000 Honorees

By Herbert Kupferberg

Poised on the brink of a new millennium, America's most famous and beloved concert venue has taken bold and visionary steps to ensure its leadership in our musical lives. In seeking new audiences with innovative programming, annually attracting the foremost performers, and vastly expanding educational and outreach activities, Carnegie is the wave of the future.

For 108 years Carnegie Hall has been synonymous with music in America, and never more so than today, as it plunges into perhaps the boldest and most visionary season in its history.

It is a season in which new music will play a major part, with some 30 world, U.S., and New York premieres; in which three leading contemporary giants, Daniel Barenboim, Pierre Boulez, and Maurizio Pollini will, in effect, run mini-seasons (called "Perspectives") of their own, and in which the new, the novel, and the unexpected will flourish side by side with the traditional and the familiar.

Varied and vigorous musical activity is typical of this bustling edifice in the heart of midtown New York. Carnegie's geographic location and democratic attitude symbolize its distinctive place in our cultural fabric. It has never been snooty or pretentious; anybody can rent its 'four walls' if they have between $8,000 and $9,000 (depending on the day of the week) and can find a 'dark' night (not easy to do). Far from being sheltered in an aloof 'cultural center' enclave, it stands squarely at an urban crossroads, comfortably at home between the elegant shops and art galleries of 57th Street and the delicatessens and coffee joints of Seventh Avenue.

Its outward appearance has changed little since it opened in 1891; you can still discern the words "Music Hall Founded by Andrew Carnegie" engraved modestly above its somewhat modernized marquee. Its exterior walls are unabashedly placarded with announcements of coming concerts. Inside, its cream-and-gold decor is relaxing; its revamped public areas are comfortable; its warm acoustics are renowned. And it's readily accessible by public transportation-something they forgot about at its uptown neighbor and sometime rival, Lincoln Center.

Added to these attractions, there is an intangible aura about Carnegie, perhaps generated by the procession of great musicians from Paderewski to Perlman who have performed upon its stage. "Now as in the past, Carnegie is the core place, the place where standards are set," says Isaac Stern, the great violinist who has been the Hall's president for the last 40 years. "It separates the men from the boys, the wheat from the chaff, or whatever metaphor you want to use. Since 1891, not a single major artist, not one, has failed to appear here."

Carnegie's charisma is even reflected in the hoariest of musical jokes-"How do you get to Carnegie Hall?"-"Practice, practice, practice." Substitute any other name and the joke somehow doesn't work. The Hall also is the site of the most famous of all debut stories. At the first appearance of the 16-year-old Jascha Heifetz, violinist Mischa Elman, mopping his brow, turned to pianist Leopold Godowsky and whispered, "Warm in here, isn't it?" "Not for pianists," Godowsky whispered back. The Carnegie cachet seems to embellish-and sometimes even establish-reputations. From Benny Goodman in 1938 to the Beatles in 1964 and on to the pop artists of the present, a Carnegie appearance represents the ultimate touch of cultural respectability. Carnegie Hall was crossing over long before crossover was invented. Even Hollywood was not impervious to its allure, as shown in the justly forgotten 1947 movie Carnegie Hall, about a charwoman in the Hall who slaves to raise her son as a classical pianist, except that he turns out to prefer jazz. Well, you can't win them all.

Nearly everyone will remember a particularly outstanding concert at Carnegie-a debut of a great artist, a premiere of a new work, or simply a transcendent performance of a masterpiece. My own memory goes back a long way, to the early 1940s when Bruno Walter led the New York Philharmonic in English-language performances of Bach's Passion According to St. Matthew. The tenor William Hain and baritone Mack Harrell (father of cellist Lynn Harrell) headed a magnificent array of artists, and the words of the King James Version fit the music seamlessly, bringing its message of hope and affirmation home to all in those wartime years. Walter gave the performances three years running, and since then, at least to my knowledge, no major organization has presented the St. Matthew Passion in English. (I suggested it once to Kurt Masur, but he went ahead and did it in German-so much for the power of the press!)

Carnegie is symbolic even for children, including my son Joel, who in his schoolboy days decided to give the oboe a try and wound up playing it with the Queensborough-wide Junior High School Orchestra at Carnegie. It was the apex of a most inauspicious career-he hasn't touched the instrument since but neither he nor I have ever forgotten that he, too, once trod this most hallowed of musical stages.

Today it seems incredible that anyone ever would have thought of demolishing these friendly musical confines to make way for a notably garish, 44-story red office building. Yet that is what almost happened in 1960, while Lincoln Center was being erected about 10 blocks to the northwest. Some powerful financial, political, and real-estate interests were involved in the destruction program. In the end, it was musicians, led by Isaac Stern, who saved the building. Stern rallied the musical world to its support, enlisted the backing of Mayor Robert F. Wagner, wheedled contributions from donors led by Jacob M. Kaplan, and lobbied with lawmakers wherever they would listen. "Nobody believed we could succeed, except us," Stern recalls.

The millennial season now underway is a good measure of that success, for Carnegie is one of the few institutions in the world with the prestige, the resources, and the courage to undertake such bold programming. The season is the final, and perhaps most significant legacy of Judith Arron, the widely admired director of the hall, who died of breast cancer last December 18 after 12 years at Carnegie's helm. For many years now Carnegie has been far more than a mere booking operation. But it was Judy Arron who a decade ago really ventured down new paths by introducing professional training workshops led by such luminaries as Robert Shaw, Isaac Stern, and Georg Solti; by establishing a Composer's Chair occupied first by Ellen Taaffe Zwilich and now by Pierre Boulez; by encouraging young musicians and commissioning new works; and by vastly expanding educational and outreach activities. And it was Judy Arron, knowing she was fatally stricken, who proposed as her heir-designate Franz Xaver Ohnesorg, director of the Cologne Philharmonic Hall in Germany-an institution that in many ways has mirrored Carnegie's enterprising approach to musical presentation.

The 51-year-old Ohnesorg, who formally took over as executive and artistic director in September, happily calls Carnegie "the mother of all concert halls." A tall, bearded, bowtie-wearing man, he speaks a fluent if accented English, which he says he learned "in school and from visiting New York." He's delighted that the English equivalent of the name Ohnesorg is "without a care" or, more colloquially, "not to worry," for it seems to express his optimism about the future of classical music in general and Carnegie Hall in particular.

"I first met Judy Arron in Amsterdam in 1990," he recalls. "It was at what we call the ECHO-group the European Concert Hall Organization. Somehow she and I always ended up sitting together at the meetings. We found we had the same way of thinking about things and ideas and people-I won't mention any names. Over the next eight or nine years I came to New York several times and stayed with her in Chappaqua. She and I helped set in motion the worldwide observances of Pierre Boulez's 75th birthday."

Ohnesorg, who is married and has a 2½-year-old son, started his musical life as a flutist and later took a degree in management from the University of Munich. He will not have an immediate impact on the current season, which was laid out by Arron, but he is already planning ahead. "I think this 1999-2000 season is a wonderful example of what programming should be like," he says. "It's a dream season. I wouldn't have done it any better myself. You won't see much difference in the future, though I hope I can leave my own fingerprints on what we will do. I certainly will continue the "Perspectives," adding other participants. When people like Danny Barenboim and Pierre Boulez come eight or ten times to the same place, it's because they know what Carnegie Hall is.

"I believe we have to find ways to make it easy for people to understand music that seems complex. In contemporary music, it's important to have the composer with us, whether as a conductor or a communicator. You have to build curiosity, educate people, tempt them.

"I think the return to tonal music has been helpful. John Adams, William Bolcom, John Corigliano are wonderful examples. Krzystof Penderecki now writes music you can listen to. You don't have to explain the music of Philip Glass-you only have to hear it to understand it. I find there is a much better rapport between composers and audiences in America than there is in Europe. American composers have a deep wish to reach audiences-they want to become popular. But in Europe, many composers are a little highbrow, with their noses in the air. They ignore audiences. We can't do that."

The changeover from Arron to Ohnesorg has been remarkably smooth, according to Artistic Administrator Kristin Lancino (formerly Kuhr), who says: "When people share common goals it's easy to make a transition. They may have different personalities but they speak a common language." Lancino, who has been at Carnegie for 14 years, says she never walks into the hall without feeling a sense of magic. "I think the secret is its capacity to stretch performers' imaginations and make them attain their highest possible musical level," she explains. "I'm a listener who used to be a pianist, and I find that audiences here also expand their imaginations. You become the best possible listener that you can."

Perhaps the best example of Carnegie's exploration of new ways to package, present, and create music will be the "Perspectives" series, reflecting fresh approaches shaped by the personal tastes and experiences of Boulez, Pollini, and Barenboim.

As composer-in-residence, Boulez is hosting a series of eight events, including a Professional Training Workshop, November 17-19, 1999, led by the Ensemble Contemporain (which he founded in 1976), focusing on music by Arnold Schoenberg, plus four concerts in March 2000 with the London Symphony Orchestra, which will include New York premieres of commissioned works by György Kurtág, Salvatore Sciarrino, Olga Neuwirth, and George Benjamin. Boulez, whose status has developed over the years from contemporary music's enfant terrible to its elder statesman, once likened a modern concert hall to "a restaurant that's open from 8 to 10 p.m., always serving the same cuisine to the same clientele." Carnegie is offering him a far wider breadth as he explores the core of 20th-century music in concerts of varying dimensions at both the main auditorium, with a capacity of 2,804, and the 268-seat Weill Recital Hall.

Maurizio Pollini's fame comes primarily as a pianist, but he has long been interested in the artistic links between past and present. He finds nothing inconsistent in a program made up of works by old masters like Claudio Monteverdi and Carlo Gesualdo contrasting with modernists like Schoenberg and Luigi Nono. (This program will actually be given March 30, 2000, at the 92nd Street Y as part of a Carnegie-sponsored series featuring the Arnold Schoenberg Choir conducted by Erwin Ortner.)

"Carnegie has invited me and other artists to animate this great hall in some special way," Pollini said in announcing his series. "I thought about the history of music and looked for the branching points through which the language evolved. We have done justice to the first half of the century with composers such as Stravinsky, Bartók, and Berg, but I feel that the most valid musical creations of the second half, those of Stockhausen, Boulez, Berio, and Nono, for instance, follow the great march forward of musical language. I hope that this foray into time will generate new reactions."

The most diverse series of all may be that put together by Daniel Barenboim, music director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, pianist, chamber player, and master of music on several continents, who will mark 50 years of performance in the year 2000. Barenboim has expressed pleasure-and even a bit of surprise-at being given carte blanche to arrange his own Carnegie programs. He recalls that when he was about to make his own Carnegie Hall debut as a pianist in 1957 with the Symphony of the Air, Leopold Stokowski asked him kindly what he would like to play. The 14-year-old Danny suggested a Beethoven concerto, whereupon Stokowski nodded and said: "You will play the Prokofiev One." Which he did.

Barenboim's participation at Carnegie Hall this season ranges from a duo-recital with tenor Plácido Domingo (making his Carnegie debut), three concerts with the Chicago Symphony (which will include the U.S.-premiere concert performance of Elliott Carter's new opera What Next?), and a workshop in which he will give master classes in Mozart concertos to young pianists and conductors, with the participation of the Civic Orchestra of Chicago. In the 2000-2001 season, incidentally, Barenboim will be back at Carnegie with the Berlin Staatskappelle orchestra playing six all-Beethoven concerts made up of the nine symphonies and the five piano concertos.

One should not overlook an 11-concert series called "20th Century Snapshots" by Carnegie regulars Dennis Russell Davies and the American Composers Orchestra. They've scheduled music ranging from George Gershwin to John Cage and will give the world premiere of a Carnegie Hall-commissioned work by Laurie Anderson celebrating Amelia Earhart (who lectured at Carnegie in 1935 on the joys of flying!). And, for a really novel departure into contemporary music, Carnegie will produce a play-it-yourself Millennium Piano Book, containing 10 short piano pieces commissioned from composers Louis Andriessen, Milton Babbitt, Pierre Boulez, Elliott Carter, Chen Yi, Hannibal Lokumbe, Wolfgang Rihm, Frederick Rzewski, Tan Dun, and Ellen Taaffe Zwilich. These will be premiered at Weill Recital Hall, March 2, 2000, by Ursula Oppens and published by Boosey & Hawkes. Not for beginners, but intermediate-level students should find it stimulating.

None of this modernist activity should obscure Carnegie's continued devotion to standard and basic repertory. Visiting orchestras will continue to flock to 57th and Seventh. It would be too much to say that the Philadelphia, Boston, and Chicago rely on regular Carnegie Hall appearances to sustain their reputations; nevertheless, they always seem to reserve their most adventurous and demanding programs for their New York visits. For many other American orchestras-not to mention those from abroad-a Carnegie appearance is a kind of imprimatur that never fails to impress the folks back home. Ever since its first concert on May 5, 1891, when Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Walter Damrosch shared the podium, Carnegie has been beguiling listeners of all tastes as consistently as Scheherazade, and it's not going to stop now. In fact, starting with the 2001-2002 season it will have three performance spaces to work with, for the old Carnegie Hall Cinema on Seventh Avenue is being renovated into a flexible performance area to be known as Judy and Arthur Zankel Hall, with its 640-seat auditorium named in honor of Judith Arron.

"With the main Hall, Weill Recital, and now Zankel we'll have three halls of different sizes and resources permitting us to develop a great variety of musical ideas," says Artistic Advisor Ara Guzelimian. "They will help enable Carnegie to function even better as a great intellectual and educational center as well as a presenter of concerts." Guzelimian himself is conducting a "Carnegie Talks" series-public conversations with Barenboim, Boulez, Simon Rattle, and Isaac Stern.

Looking back on all that has happened during the four decades of his tenure as Carnegie's president, Stern says: "When we saved the Hall, even I could only dimly perceive its mission and its centrality. You couldn't guess every turn it would take, but it has become part of the maturing of our civilized life."

Stern says he himself has never taken a hand directly in choosing the artists who will appear at Carnegie or in deciding on programming details. But he is deeply involved in the concepts and ideas that shape the future of the Hall, and he played a large part in the choice of Ohnesorg as Arron's successor. "We went through a whole list of possibilities, many of them top-ranked in the United States," he says. "We spoke to nine or ten. But when we came down to it, Ohnesorg's experience and background and what he had done at Cologne-the best-run hall in Europe-were just in line with what we wanted. Everything seemed to fit. So I called him. And only then did he tell me that just a few days before Judy died she called him to say, `You must come here for a serious talk.' Ohnesorg has enthusiasm and ideas similar to hers; he knows all the elements of administration; the staff gets along with him marvelously. I think he's going to be a terrific director."

Stern is equally sanguine in anticipating audience response to Carnegie's unconventional season. He's well aware of the late Sol Hurok's cautionary dictum (sometimes mistakenly attributed to Yogi Berra): "If they don't want to come, nothing will stop them."

"If there are losses, we have to be prepared to incur them," he says. "But we're reaching out to audiences. Some people will always come to concerts because they need them. That's the power of music. We also want to attract others-younger people who are interested in what's happening in their own day. We need more education, to make clear to growing numbers of people what has been left to us. Technology is changing the world, but everything still isn't answerable to the push of a button. Do I think classical music is dying? Hell, no-any more than life is dying. And certainly not at Carnegie Hall."

And so, as Mr. Ohnesorg might put it, not to worry.

Herbert Kupferberg, a senior editor of Parade Magazine, is the author of Those Fabulous Philadelphians, The Mendelssohns, The Book of Classical Music Lists, and other books on music.

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