THE LISTENERS
The largest portion of this story has been devoted to the orchestra
itself, and the people who founded it, supported it and endowed it.
Now comes the turn of the party of the third part, the audience.
An orchestra may be wonderfully trained, superbly led, comfortably
supported, and yet miss the main point of existing. For without
listeners, even in the days of radio, an orchestra is incomplete.
In 1900 it was difficult to lure listeners into a concert hall, where
symphonic or severely classical music was to be played. Philadelphians
began by listening to symphonies in bits and in the late nineties it
was the custom for the Germania Orchestra to play one movement of a
symphony each week for four weeks, and play the entire work in the
fifth week. Theodore Thomas did not do this, but he could not get an
audience in 1876 or even in 1881.
It is an inspiring sight of a Friday afternoon or Saturday evening to
see the crowds bound for the Academy of Music. Equally inspiring, is
it to see the audience standing on the steps of the Academy and on
the street for two and three hours before admission can be had to the
Amphitheatre for fifty cents. True lovers of music these.
One of the methods employed to persuade people to take season seats was
the membership in the Auxiliary of the Women’s Committees. Another was
the lure of big soloists. Year by year, this musical organization was
obliged to attract by advertising the appearances of great artists.
But once the audience was procured, it stayed; and today soloists are
on the verge of becoming unpopular. Such is the influence of symphonic
music.
The right to interrupt the progress of a concert by demands for
repeated encores was one which the audience gave up with little grace.
In 1913 a paragraph appeared on the programme, stating that:
“The management has decided in no case to permit
more than one encore.”
And again:
“As encores tend to disturb the unity of an orchestral
programme the patrons of the Philadelphia Orchestra
Concerts are respectfully informed that encore demands
cannot be granted.”
The conductor had one or two bad experiences, which occupied some
minutes, but finally patience won the day and the audiences realized
that this pleasure, if it was a pleasure, was over forever at a
symphony concert.
Next came the hat question. It is not a new one, for in 1841 the
Musical Fund Society placed this notice in one of its programmes:
“Ladies are particularly requested not to wear their
bonnets in the concert room.”
This makes one realize that Philadelphia women were always devoted
to their hats. The war on hats was a merry one and began as early as
1906, at a time when hats were large. It is rumored that the fashion
at the moment required pinned on hair, so hats could not be removed.
This matter was taken up in the Women’s Committee, thought by some to
be like the complaint desk of a department store; a situation of which
they are proud, as it shows how the public turns to the women. Much
discussion arose and notices began to appear in the programmes:
“For the greater convenience of all concerned, it is
earnestly hoped that the women patrons of the Orchestra
WILL REMOVE THEIR HATS during the performance. In many
cities local ordinances compel, by legal means, the
removal of head coverings that obstruct the view in
places of amusement.”
“MADAME HOMER AS A HEROINE
“Louise Homer, the popular contralto of the
Metropolitan Opera Company, who was the soloist at
the Symphony Society’s concert in the New Theatre,”
writes a New York critic, “proved herself a heroine.
SHE TOOK OFF HER HAT! To herself and to every woman in
the house, probably, the big creation, or confection,
or whatever it is called, which she wore as she came
upon the stage was a triumph in the art of millinery.
Mere men knew only that it hid her lovely face. If the
audience hadn’t been as well bred as it was musical,
there would have been a demonstration when she pulled
out the pins, removed the hat and placed it at the
foot of the conductor’s stand. Instead there was only
an audible sigh of delight. Is it too much to hope
that Mme. Homer’s sister artists will hasten to follow
her example, and that the hosts of her sex who attend
concerts and recitals may be moved to accede to the
request of the managers: ‘Ladies will please remove
their hats’?”
The “hat question” would not down, but in Philadelphia the situation
was nothing to what it was in Boston, for the management was obliged to
put the following alarming announcement in the Programme Book:
“His Honor, the Mayor, has notified the Management of
Symphony Hall that, unless the law relating to the
wearing of hats by ladies at public entertainments is
obeyed at the Symphony rehearsals and concerts, he may
be forced to revoke the license of Symphony Hall!”
“THE HAT AT THE CONCERTS
“AN EARNEST REQUEST OF OUR WOMEN PATRONS
“A number of complaints have reached the Orchestra
Association regarding the practice of women wearing
their hats at the Orchestra Concerts, particularly
at the Friday afternoon concerts, despite the notice
printed each week in this program asking that for the
comfort of others the hats shall be removed. This
complaint has become so general that it now bids fair
to result in a city ordinance, the same as in Boston
and in Chicago, enforcing the removal of hats at all
occasions of public amusements. This legal enforcement
of what should be a matter of polite request ought not
to be made necessary and the Orchestra Association
earnestly asks of all its woman patrons that they will
not permit this very simple matter to reach this acute
stage. The Association would exceedingly regret to be
compelled to carry out such an ordinance and it is
within the power of each of our woman patrons to keep
what after all is a matter of simple thoughtfulness
within the bounds of politeness and consideration for
others.”
Hats today are small, but all the listeners are not yet converted.
The next most disturbing element was, and is, the restlessness of the
audience.
There is a mistaken idea that coming late and leaving early is peculiar
to the modern era, and this day of haste. Far back in 1882 we know that
people left concerts early from this notice in a programme of that year:
“NOTICE
“The patrons of the Germania Orchestra Concerts are
respectfully requested to be in their seats, on the
evenings of the concerts, by eight o’clock punctually.
“Those persons who are unable to comply with this
request, will kindly wait in the lobby until the close
of the First Movement of the Symphony, when a pause
will be made to enable them to reach their seats.”
Coming late is the habit of the American world at least, even when
taking trains. Being locked out does not remedy this habit, it only
evokes a few growls.
Again the management took up the subject through the programme:
“NOTES OF INTEREST
“The hat question is not the only question that arises
from time to time to prevent that serene enjoyment of
concerts, which is the ideal estate of things hoped for
by Management and concert-goers. Perhaps in the Elysian
fields, choirs armed with angelic harps, are listened
to without distractions furnished by late-comers and
early-goers, or by people whose views on the numbers
interpreted are as obstreperous as their hats, or the
numberless physical annoyances that make for confusion
and noise, that seem to be inevitable in concert
auditoriums the country over. And this is apropos of
the fact that a subscriber has written in to say that
‘The general confusion during the last number of the
concerts on Friday afternoons is most annoying,’ and
she continues, ‘I am wondering whether a request cannot
be put in the programme to stop this nuisance, as has
been done with regard to the wearing of hats. This
is what one meets with; almost as soon as the last
number begins, hats and coats are put on, veils are
arranged, and during the playing of the finale people
keep leaving, causing a general feeling of unquiet and
unrestfulness. This seems to me very discourteous, and
is most annoying to those who really want to enjoy the
concert from start to finish. I know that sometimes it
is necessary for a subscriber to leave early, but may I
suggest that the persons who have to leave before the
last number, vacate their seats before the Orchestra
starts to play.’
“All this seems reasonable enough, but it is a matter
entirely in the hands of the concert-goers, who form
their own ‘court of honor’ in these particulars.”
However, Philadelphia audiences have improved in concert manners since
the olden time. Then the audiences, although considered ill-behaved,
were much like European ones; they did throw things at the singers and
did not hesitate to express their opinions of the performance. But the
city has advanced, as can be seen by the following notice:
“Pistole Reward—To whoever can discover the person who
was so very rude as to throw Eggs from the Gallery upon
the Stage, last Monday, by which the Cloathes of some
Ladies and Gentlemen were spoiled and the performance
in some measure interrupted!”[39]
[39] Sonneck: “Early Concert Life.”
Now we do not throw things, the performance is only “in some measure
interrupted” when we cough and sneeze during concerts and operas and
occasionally come in late. Frequent interruptions of a performance
by the screams and calls of displeased listeners, to say nothing of
constant conversation were the order of the early days of public
music. Not worse here than elsewhere, but annoying just the same. Now
a whisper is hardly ever audible at concerts, and a hiss is called
forth only by a modern composition too terrible to allow to pass
unnoticed. A hiss every now and again is not an unhealthy sign. It
shows that someone is listening; and there are a few coughs but always
behind the conductor’s back.
Early in the life of the orchestra the public began to write letters of
complaint to the management and to the newspapers. The management feels
that this is a sign of healthy interest and welcomes these comments. It
shows how strong the sense of possession of the orchestra is with its
patrons.
Encores have vanished like the missiles of the past. Hats and
restlessness are going out of fashion. The audiences of the
Philadelphia Orchestra are wonderful groups of people, some of whom
have held seats continuously since 1900. Their regular attendance has
encouraged the Board of Directors and inspired the conductor and the
musicians to artistic achievements. The party of the third part is
doing its share toward making the concerts a success.