ADVENTURES IN MUSIC
One of the misfortunes of Edward Bok's training, which he realized more
clearly as time went on, was that music had little or no place in his
life. His mother did not play; and aside from the fact that his father
and mother were patrons of the opera during their residence in The
Netherlands, the musical atmosphere was lacking in his home. He
realized how welcome an outlet music might be in his now busy life. So
what he lacked himself and realized as a distinct omission in his own
life he decided to make possible for others.
_The Ladies' Home Journal_ began to strike a definite musical note. It
first caught the eye and ear of its public by presenting the popular
new marches by John Philip Sousa; and when the comic opera of "Robin
Hood" became the favorite of the day, it secured all the new
compositions by Reginald de Koven. Following these, it introduced its
readers to new compositions by Sir Arthur Sullivan, Tosti, Moszkowski,
Richard Strauss, Paderewski, Josef Hofmann, Edouard Strauss, and
Mascagni. Bok induced Josef Hofmann to give a series of piano lessons
in his magazine, and Madame Marchesi a series of vocal lessons. _The
Journal_ introduced its readers to all the great instrumental and vocal
artists of the day through articles; it offered prizes for the best
piano and vocal compositions; it had the leading critics of New York,
Boston, and Chicago write articles explanatory of orchestral music and
how to listen to music.
Bok was early attracted by the abilities of Josef Hofmann. In 1898, he
met the pianist, who was then twenty-two years old. Of his musical
ability Bok could not judge, but he was much impressed by his unusual
mentality, and soon both learned and felt that Hofmann's art was deeply
and firmly rooted. Hofmann had a wider knowledge of affairs than other
musicians whom Bok had met; he had not narrowed his interests to his
own art. He was striving to achieve a position in his art, and,
finding that he had literary ability, Bok asked him to write a
reminiscent article on his famous master, Rubinstein.
This was followed by other articles; the publication of his new
mazurka; still further articles; and then, in 1907, Bok offered him a
regular department in the magazine and a salaried editorship on his
staff.
Bok's musical friends and the music critics tried to convince the
editor that Hofmann's art lay not so deep as Bok imagined; that he had
been a child prodigy, and would end where all child prodigies
invariably end--opinions which make curious reading now in view of
Hofmann's commanding position in the world of music. But while Bok
lacked musical knowledge, his instinct led him to adhere to his belief
in Hofmann; and for twelve years, until Bok's retirement as editor, the
pianist was a regular contributor to the magazine. His success was, of
course, unquestioned. He answered hundreds of questions sent him by
his readers, and these answers furnished such valuable advice for piano
students that two volumes were made in book form and are to-day used by
piano teachers and students as authoritative guides.
Meanwhile, Bok's marriage had brought music directly into his domestic
circle. Mrs. Bok loved music, was a pianist herself, and sought to
acquaint her husband with what his former training had omitted.
Hofmann and Bok had become strong friends outside of the editorial
relation, and the pianist frequently visited the Bok home. But it was
some time, even with these influences surrounding him, before music
began to play any real part in Bok's own life.
He attended the opera occasionally; more or less under protest, because
of its length, and because his mind was too practical for the indirect
operatic form. He could not remain patient at a recital; the effort to
listen to one performer for an hour and a half was too severe a tax
upon his restless nature. The Philadelphia Orchestra gave a symphony
concert each Saturday evening, and Bok dreaded the coming of that
evening in each week for fear of being taken to hear music which he was
convinced was "over his head."
Like many men of his practical nature, he had made up his mind on this
point without ever having heard such a concert. The word "symphony"
was enough; it conveyed to him a form of the highest music quite beyond
his comprehension. Then, too, in the back of his mind there was the
feeling that, while he was perfectly willing to offer the best that the
musical world afforded in his magazine, his readers were primarily
women, and the appeal of music, after all, he felt was largely, if not
wholly, to the feminine nature. It was very satisfying to him to hear
his wife play in the evening; but when it came to public concerts, they
were not for his masculine nature. In other words, Bok shared the all
too common masculine notion that music is for women and has little
place in the lives of men.
One day Josef Hofmann gave Bok an entirely new point of view. The
artist was rehearsing in Philadelphia for an appearance with the
orchestra, and the pianist was telling Bok and his wife of the desire
of Leopold Stokowski, who had recently become conductor of the
Philadelphia Orchestra, to eliminate encores from his symphonic
programmes; he wanted to begin the experiment with Hofmann's appearance
that week. This was a novel thought to Bok: why eliminate encores from
any concert? If he liked the way any performer played, he had always
done his share to secure an encore. Why should not the public have an
encore if it desired it, and why should a conductor or a performer
object? Hofmann explained to him the entity of a symphonic programme;
that it was made up with one composition in relation to the others as a
sympathetic unit, and that an encore was an intrusion, disturbing the
harmony of the whole.
"I wish you would let Stokowski come out and explain to you what he is
trying to do," said Hofmann. "He knows what he wants, and he is right
in his efforts; but he doesn't know how to educate the public. There
is where you could help him."
But Bok had no desire to meet Stokowski. He mentally pictured the
conductor: long hair; feet never touching the earth; temperament
galore; he knew them! And he had no wish to introduce the type into
his home life.
Mrs. Bok, however, ably seconded Josef Hofmann, and endeavored to
dissipate Bok's preconceived notion, with the result that Stokowski
came to the Bok home.
Bok was not slow to see Stokowski was quite the reverse of his mental
picture, and became intensely interested in the youthful conductor's
practical way of looking at things. It was agreed that the encore
"bull" was to be taken by the horns that week; that no matter what the
ovation to Hofmann might be, however the public might clamor, no encore
was to be forthcoming; and Bok was to give the public an explanation
during the following week. The next concert was to present Mischa
Elman, and his co-operation was assured so that continuity of effort
might be counted upon.
In order to have first-hand information, Bok attended the concert that
Saturday evening. The symphony, Dvorak's "New World Symphony," amazed
Bok by its beauty; he was more astonished that he could so easily grasp
any music in symphonic form. He was equally surprised at the simple
beauty of the other numbers on the programme, and wondered not a little
at his own perfectly absorbed attention during Hofmann's playing of a
rather long concerto.
The pianist's performance was so beautiful that the audience was
uproarious in its approval; it had calculated, of course, upon an
encore, and recalled the pianist again and again until he had appeared
and bowed his thanks several times. But there was no encore; the stage
hands appeared and moved the piano to one side, and the audience
relapsed into unsatisfied and rather bewildered silence.
Then followed Bok's publicity work in the newspapers, beginning the
next day, exonerating Hofmann and explaining the situation. The
following week, with Mischa Elman as soloist, the audience once more
tried to have its way and its cherished encore, but again none was
forthcoming. Once more the newspapers explained; the battle was won,
and the no-encore rule has prevailed at the Philadelphia Orchestra
concerts from that day to this, with the public entirely resigned to
the idea and satisfied with the reason therefor.
But the bewildered Bok could not make out exactly what had happened to
his preconceived notion about symphonic music. He attended the
following Saturday evening concert; listened to a Brahms symphony that
pleased him even more than had "The New World," and when, two weeks
later, he heard the Tschaikowski "Pathetique" and later the
"Unfinished" symphony, by Schubert, and a Beethoven symphony, attracted
by each in turn, he realized that his prejudice against the whole
question of symphonic music had been both wrongly conceived and
baseless.
He now began to see the possibility of a whole world of beauty which up
to that time had been closed to him, and he made up his mind that he
would enter it. Somehow or other, he found the appeal of music did not
confine itself to women; it seemed to have a message for men. Then,
too, instead of dreading the approach of Saturday evenings, he was
looking forward to them, and invariably so arranged his engagements
that they might not interfere with his attendance at the orchestra
concerts.
After a busy week, he discovered that nothing he had ever experienced
served to quiet him so much as these end-of-the-week concerts. They
were not too long, an hour and a half at the utmost; and, above all,
except now and then, when the conductor would take a flight into the
world of Bach, he found he followed him with at least a moderate degree
of intelligence; certainly with personal pleasure and inner
satisfaction.
Bok concluded he would not read the articles he had published on the
meaning of the different "sections" of a symphony orchestra, or the
books issued on that subject. He would try to solve the mechanism of
an orchestra for himself, and ascertain as he went along the relation
that each portion bore to the other. When, therefore, in 1913, the
president of the Philadelphia Orchestra Association asked him to become
a member of its Board of Directors, his acceptance was a natural step
in the gradual development of his interest in orchestral music.
The public support given to orchestras now greatly interested Bok. He
was surprised to find that every symphony orchestra had a yearly
deficit. This he immediately attributed to faulty management; but on
investigating the whole question he learned that a symphony orchestra
could not possibly operate, at a profit or even on a self-sustaining
basis, because of its weekly change of programme, the incessant
rehearsals required, and the limited number of times it could actually
play within a contracted season. An annual deficit was inevitable.
He found that the Philadelphia Orchestra had a small but faithful group
of guarantors who each year made good the deficit in addition to paying
for its concert seats. This did not seem to Bok a sound business plan;
it made of the orchestra a necessarily exclusive organization,
maintained by a few; and it gave out this impression to the general
public, which felt that it did not "belong," whereas the true relation
of public and orchestra was that of mutual dependence. Other
orchestras, he found, as, for example, the Boston Symphony and the New
York Philharmonic had their deficits met by one individual patron in
each case. This, to Bok's mind, was an even worse system, since it
entirely excluded the public, making the orchestra dependent on the
continued interest and life of a single man.
In 1916 Bok sought Mr. Alexander Van Rensselaer, the president of the
Philadelphia Orchestra Association, and proposed that he, himself,
should guarantee the deficit of the orchestra for five years, provided
that during that period an endowment fund should be raised, contributed
by a large number of subscribers, and sufficient in amount to meet,
from its interest, the annual deficit. It was agreed that the donor
should remain in strict anonymity, an understanding which has been
adhered to until the present writing.
The offer from the "anonymous donor," presented by the president, was
accepted by the Orchestra Association. A subscription to an endowment
fund was shortly afterward begun; and the amount had been brought to
eight hundred thousand dollars when the Great War interrupted any
further additions. In the autumn of 1919, however, a city-wide
campaign for an addition of one million dollars to the endowment fund
was launched. The amount was not only secured, but oversubscribed.
Thus, instead of a guarantee fund, contributed by thirteen hundred
subscribers, with the necessity for annual collection, an endowment
fund of one million eight hundred thousand dollars, contributed by
fourteen thousand subscribers, has been secured; and the Philadelphia
Orchestra has been promoted from a privately maintained organization to
a public institution in which fourteen thousand residents of
Philadelphia feel a proprietary interest. It has become in fact, as
well as in name, "our orchestra."