The Barbirolli experience

I was planning something else for today, but it’s been a mad week (prepared a cartload of documents needed to apply for a certain fellowship) and I just don’t have the steam to write anything of my own. (In fact, I’ve been so busy that I forgot to check what the Polish Radio was programming for this week and missed a Warsaw Autumn retransmission. ) So let me, once more, reach for the Henryk Czyż treasure trove. This is from a different book of memoirs than the previous ones:

I had the fortune to meet sir John Barbirolli several times. It started like in the movies: A phone call in the morning that on his way to Moscow Barbirolli with his Halle Orchestra would detour to give concerts in Warsaw and Lodz, where I was chief of the philarmonic at that time. (…) I was excited that I would meet the famous Barbirolli. Less so – that I would be the one conducting the regular Friday concert on the next day. That sort of lineup would have to make me seem uninteresting. But what was I to do?

On Monday I started my regular rehearsals. On Thursday morning we bought flowers and I selected a greeting party to go with me to the station. Sir John was to arrive with his orchestra around 3 PM, so for the time being we were rehearsing the main item of our Friday program – Sinfonia antarctica by Williams.

It was then that the heaters started to buzz – started playing, emitting an odd whistling sound. I made a fuss at the administration – that it was scandalous, a disgrace. The great Barbirolli and… heaters. A plumber was called. Not wanting to waste time, I continued with the rehearsal despite the difficulties. The plumber entered the hall during the Adagio. A small dark man in a long black coat. He was making noises, so I shouted over my shoulder that he should keep quiet, this is a rehearsal, he can fix the heaters later. But he continued to walk around the hall, looked here and there, shuffled around, so I screamed harshly that he should leave at once. He came closer, onto the podium. Then I recognized him. And I was, of course, terrified. Barbirolli was stirred:

‘This is most extraordinary! I come to a city whose name I cannot pronounce, of whose very existence I had never heard until yesterday. I come earlier, to see the hall where I am to give a concert in the evening. I arrive and what do I hear? My symphony! Are you aware, young man, that Williams dedicated it to me? I conducted the premiere. It is my symphony. Cellos: the slur goes throughout the whole bar! Clarinets: pp two bars before 7. Enough! You will now play for me. You may begin!’

He sat in the first row. I raised a trembling hand.

I had never heard the Lodz Philharmonic play so beautifully before. Never. Then, Barbirolli climbed the podium again. He was touched.

‘I thank you, gentlemen. You have made me very happy. Young man, you will conduct my orchestra in Manchester before this year is over.’

And he kept his word.

(Henryk Czyż Ucieczka spod klucza, w: Jak z nut…: Ucieczka spod klucza – Porcelanowy amorek – Wybrane tizery, Tryton: Warszawa 1993, s. 43-44)

Newcomers are encouraged to check out previous installments of the Czyż saga:

Czyż and Penderecki – the end of the affair, part 1 (of 2)

Czyż and Penderecki – the end of the affair, part 2 (of 2)

Czyż on Maciejewski