Page 25 - The Gluckman Occasional Number Four

One morning soon after,
the citizens of New York
City awoke to the news that
their Philharmonic had a new
conductor: the trustees had
accepted Arturo Tuskanini’s
resignation without comment
to the media. Nevertheless,
rumors abounded. Some
people thought he was
suffering from a rare disease, contracted only by elephants. Others
wondered whether or not he had lost his memory. And one
journalist reported on national television that Arturo had eloped
with a circus elephant!
None of these stories was
true, of course. All that the
maestro had lost was his
nerve. He couldn’t face an
orchestra or an audience
believing that they accepted
him merely as a freak. For
weeks he remained in
seclusion at his parents’
home, refusing to answer
mail or telephone calls. His outlook on life was very sour, indeed.
He didn’t want to look at sheet music or listen to recordings of the
great conductors of the past. At night he cried himself to sleep, and
barely touched his food in the morning.
Finally, his father forced
the issue. He ordered Arturo
to go back out in the world.
He told his son that elephants
cannot remain healthy if they
just sit around and do
nothing all day. Arturo
reluctantly agreed. He pushed
against all his bad feelings and
contacted some old
acquaintances. It was time to
try something new.