netHEADS! July 2009

Remember the days when the prophets of doom were relegated to street corners with sandwich boards that said the end was near? Nowadays it seems like you can't swing an unbalanced checkbook without hitting some fool spouting misery and woe for all of us. Frankly, I'm getting tired of it.

Back in the early 70's I was the technical director for a summer music school for gifted classical students. And I mean gifted - these kids had skills. The gentleman who taught conducting and led the orchestra was William 'Bill' Smith. At the time he was the assistant conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra working under the legendary Eugene Ormandy.

I met Bill the first day of orchestra rehearsal. Other than exchanging pleasantries and going over some work details, I don't remember much that happened that morning. (I did say it was the over 35 years ago, after all). However, I do remember the afternoon.

The orchestra students started to arrive just after lunch. These were school kids, teenagers mostly, but also a few a little younger, who had come to Philadelphia from around the country to hone their playing skills. They milled about on stage, some sitting in the chairs that I had placed in an attempt (futile) at mimicking a proper orchestra layout. For the most part this was the kids' first exposure to a class like this and they didn't know what to expect. They were nervous. I was too.

Maestro Smith bounded onto the stage and started organizing the group; violin players over there, oboes over here, timpani in the back, and so on. He had them play a couple of short exercise pieces and then he began to talk with them. It's difficult to describe the effect his words had on the group. He was calming, he was caring and he was energetic. His tone and upbeat demeanor were infectious; I could feel myself start to relax while at the same time found that I was sitting on the edge of my seat wondering what was coming next.

Maestro Smith talked about the music program they would work on this summer, which would culminate in a concert at the end of the season. He told them that the major piece they would play for that concert would be Symphonie Fantastique by Hector Berlioz. As this entire experience was my first exposure to classical music, I'd never heard of the piece. But the kids had. There were moans and groans from every corner of the stage. It was pretty clear that the players weren't happy with the Maestro's choice.

Mr. Smith paid no attention to their complaints but went around the stage telling them all that yes, they could play this piece. "No. No", he said. You can do it, I have faith in you." he said. He told them the story of the piece and some history about the composer. Then he started to break the parts down a bit for them. He got a couple of the violin players and horn players to try out a few bars. Then a woodwind joined in and pretty soon he had them all messing around with it. It sounded like crap, but that wasn't the point. What had happened was that one man, in a span of probably no more than a half hour, had convinced about one hundred unsure, self-conscious kids to take a chance.

The rest of the summer he was like a man possessed. He worked with the kids as a group, as sections and as individuals. Always with that humor and unbridled optimism that made everyone, myself included, want to succeed with him and for him.

That summer I lived in a trailer on the campus within earshot of the dorms. It was not unusual to hear someone practicing at one or two or three o'clock in the morning. Once, after a French horn had been practicing for at least an hour and just as the sun was coming up, several other horns joined in from other parts of the dorm to play an impromptu concert of the beheading section of the fourth movement. It was, to say the least, mesmerizing.

Finally, after 5 weeks of hard work, came the day of the concert. Everyone was a little nervous. Everyone that is, except Mr. Smith. He walked among the musicians with a great big smile on his face cracking jokes and telling them how proud he was of all of them. His unstoppable good humor and bubbling optimism took over and the group once again found themselves relaxing in his presence.

Needless to say, they played the hell out of the piece. It was one of those moments we in the entertainment business cherish the rest of our lives. As the musicians played, the smiles on their faces grew bigger and bigger. Maestro Smith was positively beaming. The audience knew,
right from the beginning, that this was going to be something special. You could feel the excitement growing from one movement to the next. By the middle of the final movement there were gasps coming from the audience as the orchestra played their hearts out. And when the last note was done, the audience went wild. Standing, clapping, cheering and yes, tears were all jumbled together. The bows seemed to go on forever. The musicians hugged each other. They hugged the Maestro. Strangers in the audience hugged each other and kept on cheering.

That concert, as they say, left a mark. To watch those nervous kids that first day, each one pretty much alone on the stage, grow into a confident orchestra, happy as can be to be playing a piece that just 5 weeks before they thought they couldn't play, was a gift I will always remember. After the concert, when the crowds had finally left backstage, I stopped the Maestro to thank him for a wonderful experience. He turned to me and said, "No, thank you!"

Maestro Smith passed away in 1993. But if he were alive today I can just hear him saying, amidst all the doom and gloom, moans and groans...."No. No. You can do it. I know you can. I have faith in you."

I'm just saying.....
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