[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 120 (Monday, October 2, 2000)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1637-E1638]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                   TRIBUTE TO THE CLEVELAND ORCHESTRA

                                 ______
                                 

                        HON. DENNIS J. KUCINICH

                                of ohio

                    in the house of representatives

                        Monday, October 2, 2000

  Mr. KUCINICH. Mr. Speaker, I wish to recognize the remarkable 
Cleveland Orchestra that was recently featured in the Wall Street 
Journal article titled ``In Cleveland, Music for Connoisseurs.''
  The Cleveland Orchestra was founded in 1918 under the outstanding 
direction of Russian-American conductor Nikolai Sokoloff. The renowned 
Sokoloff initiated an extensive domestic touring schedule, educational 
concerts, commercial recordings and radio broadcasts. This rich 
tradition continued under the distinguished Artur Rodzinski, who served 
as music director from 1933-43. His claim to fame was the presentation 
of 15 fully-staged operas at Severance Hall. After a short reign by 
Erich Leinsdorf, the orchestra went through a period of revolutionary 
change and growth under the incredible leadership of George Szell 
beginning in 1946. Both the number of Orchestra members and the length 
of the season increased, and the Orchestra started touring outside the 
United States. The famous Cleveland Orchestra Chorus was also 
established during this time. When Szell passed away in 1970, he was 
temporarily replaced by Pierre Boulez and later by Lorin Maazel during 
the 1972-73 season. Maazel not only lived up to the standards set by 
his predecessors, but he also left his own mark on the Orchestra by 
expanding their repertoire to include more 20th century compositions. 
Christoph von Dohnanyi succeeded Maazel as music director in 1982, and 
he continues to hold the position today. During von Dohnanyi's tenure, 
the Cleveland Orchestra has soared to rank among the best of the 
world's symphonic ensembles.
  However, it is not simply the wonderful direction that makes the 
Cleveland Orchestra so amazing. The true power and inspiration of the 
Orchestra stems from its outstanding and marvelously talented 
collection of musicians. From the violins to the flutes to the horns to 
the trombones, each section has its own magical sound but still blends 
modestly with the whole of the Orchestra.
  A discussion of the grandeur of the Cleveland Orchestra is hardly 
complete without mention of its magnificent home, Severance Hall. The 
beautiful, ornate concert hall has just undergone a two-year, $36 
million renovation and expansion. The goal of the project was to 
preserve Severance Hall's grace and architectural integrity. Thus, the 
original detailing of the Hall has been restored, and its legendary 
acoustics have been retained and enhanced.
  Mr. Speaker, I ask my fellow colleagues to join me in recognizing the 
extraordinary achievements of the Cleveland Orchestra. I hope that the 
Orchestra continues bringing joy to the city of Cleveland and the rest 
of the world for many years to come, and I submit the aforementioned 
article into the Record.

                  In Cleveland, Music for Connoisseurs


While Its Artistic Preeminence Is Unquestioned, This Orchestra May Fall 
                           Shy of Fame's Peak

                             By Greg Sandow

       When Ellen dePasquale joined the Cleveland Orchestra two 
     years ago, she'd had just two years of professional violin 
     experience. And yet here she was, a member of the most 
     disciplined orchestra in America, and possibly the world. 
     Scarier still, she was leading it. She'd been hired as 
     associate concertmaster, which made her second in command of 
     the musicians. But the week she began, the main 
     concertmaster, William Preucil, was playing in front of the 
     orchestra as a soloist, leaving Ms. dePasquale in charge. I 
     was overwhelmed,'' she told me.
       ``We tortured her!'' Mr. Preucil laughed, chatting with her 
     and me and two other Cleveland Orchestra musicians. ``We 
     broke her fingers,'' deadpanned Robert Vernon, the principal 
     violist. But these were jokes. The surprising reality, as 
     Ralph Curry, a member of the cello section, explained it, was 
     utterly simple: ``She sat down and people followed her.'' 
     Leading an orchestra, Ms. dePasquale said, suddenly was 
     ``easier than it ever had been.''
       This is one way to start a special story, about the culture 
     of the Cleveland Orchestra, whose musical preeminence is 
     taken for granted by professionals. That's been true ever 
     since the '50s, when George Szell was music director and 
     conducted--as we can hear on his recordings, still available 
     from Sony Classical--with clarity, forceful intellect and 
     decisive grace.
       He set a standard that's still in force. I've heard three 
     Cleveland recordings of Beethoven's Ninth, one with Szell 
     conducting, another with Loren Maazel, music director from 
     1972 to 1982, and the third with Cleveland's current music 
     director, Christoph von Dohnanyi. Szell's performance is both 
     the strongest and the subtlest, Mr. Maazel's the most blatant 
     and Mr. von Dohnanyi's the simplest, despite its force, and 
     the most understated. But in all three, no matter what 
     approach the conductor takes (and Mr. Maazel's case, maybe in 
     spite of it), the musicians play every note with radiant 
     care. Robert Vernon and Ralph Curry both played under Szell; 
     both say they were taught the tradition when they arrived and 
     that they

[[Page E1638]]

     passed it on to those who came in after them.
       They haven't changed what they look for, they said, when 
     new players audition. ``A beautiful sound,'' Robert Vernon 
     summarizes, ``not the flashiest playing.'' ``Someone who 
     listens,'' William Preucil offered. ``Our character,'' Mr. 
     Vernon said, ``is to sacrifice our own position to be with 
     the other person''--something I noticed
       These musicians, orchestra staff members said, play their 
     best on matter where they are. And I heard that myself when 
     some of them gave a concert in the gym of a local elementary 
     school. This was part of a new program called Learning 
     Through Music, which (though Cleveland is hardly the first 
     orchestra to do this) not only puts musicians in the schools, 
     but makes them part of the schools' curriculum. The gym was 
     packed with kids and their working-class parents. The program 
     ranged from standard classical repertoire--a movement, for 
     instance, from the Berlioz ``Symphonie Fantastique,'' cannily 
     arranged for 10 or so players--to rock and jazz and the sharp 
     contemporary rhythm of Steve Reich's ``Clapping Music'' 
     (played after a minute of silence, during which the kids were 
     encouraged to hear the sounds that rustled and stirred around 
     them). And while it's hardly a secret that orchestras don't 
     always care about performance for children, in this one the 
     musicians spoke to the kids with all the flair of 
     accomplished entertainers and played with the same arresting 
     certainty you'd hear on their records with Mr. von Dohnanyi. 
     The audience was on its feet screaming; I've never seen an 
     orchestra make so many friends so quickly.
       But, then, the culture of the Cleveland Orchestra goes 
     deeper than music. ``There's a sense of community you don't 
     find many other places, and a can-do spirit,'' said Richard 
     Kessler, director of the American Music Center, who got to 
     know many orchestras from the inside when he worked as a 
     consultant on orchestral education programs (including 
     Cleveland's). ``I've never been in an institution that had 
     less internal tension,'' said Patricia Wahlen, the 
     orchestra's veteran director of development, after I'd 
     watched her conduct a meeting. ``Talent I know I can find,'' 
     said Thomas W. Morris, the executive director, talking about 
     how he hires new staff. ``So I look for imagination.''
       ``The personality is the main thing, finally,'' Mr. 
     Dohnanyi told me, describing what he looks for in new 
     musicians. I spoke to four people on the board of directors, 
     and none of them mentioned what his day job was until I 
     asked. All four were powers in the Cleveland business world; 
     they'd have to be, since the board raised $25 million toward 
     the recent $116 million
       ``We have a passion for the music, for the musicians,'' 
     said the board president, Richard J. Bogomolny (himself an 
     accomplished violinist who plays chamber music with members 
     of the orchestra, though, characteristically, it wasn't he 
     who let me know that), John D. Ong, one of two co-chairmen of 
     the board, describing the orchestra's position in the city, 
     told me, ``George Szell lived in Cleveland and was seen doing 
     the normal things that people do.'' One of Mr. Von Dohnanyi's 
     sons just graduated from Case Western Reserve University 
     here, and many people mentioned the city itself as one reason 
     for the orchestra's success. Philanthropically, Mr. Ong told 
     me, Cleveland is ``extraordinarily generous.''
       To learn more, I called Ohio Sen. George Voinovich, who'd 
     earlier been Cleveland's mayor, and John Grabowski, assistant 
     professor of history at Case Western Reserve and director of 
     research at the Western Reserve Historical Society. Mr. 
     Grabowski talked about Cleveland's ``climate of service'' and 
     how loyal Cleveland workers are to their jobs. But what 
     struck me most was that both men had their own connection 
     with the orchestra.
       For many years, nearly every school-child in Cleveland was 
     bused to Severance Hall; Mr. Grabowski heard concerts that 
     way, while Senator Voinovich's mother took him to 
     performances. ``I really miss that part of my life,'' the 
     senator said, almost wistfully. ``As the mayor of the city, 
     one of the nice things was to go to Severance Hall and be 
     known by some of the musicians.''
       The renovated hall is breathtaking--an art deco palace, red 
     and gold with silver and faux-Egyptian highlights, more 
     playful than you might expect, but also simpler and more 
     serious. Inside it, the orchestra plays wonderfully serious 
     concerts, with soloists chosen for their connoisseur's appeal 
     (``We don't hire big names just because they're names,'' 
     Edward Yim, the orchestra's artistic administrator, very 
     quietly declared), and programs carefully constructed, with a 
     constant presence of contemporary scores.
       Are there problems? The only one I might have found was an 
     apparent disagreement over incoming music director Franz 
     Walser-Most, who'll succeed Mr. von Dohnanyi two years from 
     now; the board, I think, adores him, but the musicians only 
     said (as musicians often will).
       ``Let's wait and see.''
       I started asking everybody what difficulties there might 
     be; Thomas Morris answered ``complacency''--not now, but 
     maybe in the future. I'll raise his bet and offer 
     ``smugness.'' Mr. Morris isn't smug (I was amazed to find 
     that his institution seemed even stronger than he says it 
     is), but it's tricky being sure that you're the best. The 
     musicians made comparisons with other orchestras that can't 
     easily be quoted; they're surely true, but baldly written 
     down they might not seem plausible. And there's a curious 
     artistic challenge, which springs from a problem of 
     perception. The Cleveland Orchestra, as I've said, is 
     musically preeminent, but ever since George Szell, this 
     largely has been preeminence for connoisseurs. What's 
     missing, at least from the orchestra's image, is the 
     expectation of simpler musical virtues, especially direct 
     emotional expression. Mr. von Dohnanyi (``not an obvious 
     choice,'' said Mr. Ong, ``but perfect for us'' understands 
     musical integrity; he allows great sonic explosions, for 
     example, only at climactic moments.
       At Carnegie Hall, at the start of Charles Ives's ``The 
     Unanswered Question,'' he evoked the softest orchestral sound 
     I've ever heard, a kind of wordless aural poetry just a 
     breath away from silence. but even though he might surprise 
     you in romantic music--try his wrenching, limpid Tchaikovsky 
     ``Pathetique'' on Telarc--he's most strikingly emotional in 
     unpopular atonal works by Berg and Schoenberg. Mr. Walser-
     Most, of course, will have his own story to tell. But Mr. von 
     Dohnanyi's version of Cleveland's impeccable tradition almost 
     guarantees that the orchestra can't be wildly popular. It may 
     not want to be; it's surely aiming higher. But still it's 
     true that other orchestras remain more famous--the Vienna 
     Philharmonic, for example, whose very name seems synonymous 
     with classical music. Cleveland might be a better orchestra, 
     but because it's not flashy, the final peaks of fame may so 
     far have eluded it.

     

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