Page 23 - The Gluckman Occasional Number Four

Once the baton was firmly in
the grip of his trunk, Arturo
discovered that he enjoyed
conducting even more than
playing or composing. The
entire orchestra, dozens of
musicians, looking up to him for
direction! All the nuances of
performance were under his
control: tempo, loudness,
balance! It was his, Arturo Tuskanini’s, conception that was taking
musical form right before his eyes and ears—and those of the
audience! No human could wave a baton like an elephant inspired by
a fresh and fertile musical imagination. The applause was like
thunder, crashing down upon him time and time again.
Word of his triumphant
appearance at the podium in
Austria spread far and wide,
leading to invitations from
orchestras in the United States
and Europe to act as guest
conductor. Arturo accepted
them all, and very quickly
established himself as the
brightest young star in the
cosmos of conducting. After
several months of exhausting travel and rave reviews, he was offered
the position of Music Director of the New York Philharmonic. He
took the post and settled into a comfortable routine: by day he
studied scores assiduously; and at night the wealthy and cultured
paid court to him at post-concert receptions and balls. His
reputation was made.
Then, one evening, something terrible
happened. It was in the middle of the slow
movement of Beethoven’s Seventh
Symphony. Arturo, enraptured by the
exotic harmonies and lush tonalities of the
music, lost his place in the score. The
musicians played on, their familiarity with
the famous composition carrying them