Arturo Toscanini Demanded Excellence From the Symphony Orchestra
One of history’s greatest musical conductors was Arturo Toscanini. Born in Parma, Italy, in 1867, Toscanini died in his sleep in New York City in 1957. For years he conducted the National Broadcasting Company’s Symphony Orchestra in New York City’s Carnegie Hall. The last time he conducted there he was eighty-seven years old. Those who played for Toscanini say he was a terrible taskmaster in rehearsals. Often those rehearsals were battlegrounds between the maestro and his orchestra. He could be ruthless in the verbal tortures he heaped upon some unfortunate musician, but at the same time he could be as gentle as a grandfather. Once in a rehearsal a member of the orchestra was performing poorly in a solo passage. The white-maned Toscanini rapped his baton for silence. Placing one hand on his hip, he touched the end of his nose with the baton. The orchestra knew from experience that a terrible storm was about to break upon the poor soloist. An ominous silence filled the room as Toscanini called the player by name. Looking kindly at the trembling musician for a few minutes, Toscanini then asked pleasantly, "Tell me, please, when were you born?" When the question was answered, the maestro then asked, "And in what month?" When he learned the month of the man’s birth, all wondered what was coming next. "And on what day of the month were you born?" Toscanini queried. Now completely unnerved by Toscanini’s gentle inquisition, the poor musician answered, "I think it was a Tuesday, Maestro." Suddenly all of Toscanini’s fury was unleashed, and he shouted at the quivering musician, "That was a black day for music!" He then raised his baton in the air, struck the downbeat, and the orchestra began to play as though nothing had happened. In a moment they arrived at the dreaded solo passage where the small mistake had infuriated Toscanini, but this time the soloist played his part without a bobble. Stopping the orchestra, the maestro looked at the white-faced soloist and said: "So! So!" With his hand he threw a kiss to the musician he had verbally crucified and then sweetly said: "So you are not stupid. You can play well. Now I am happy. You are happy. Beethoven is happy!" On another occasion Toscanini was rehearsing his orchestra, and he wanted the piece of music played perfectly. But it was obvious that the orchestra was not giving its best. Laying down his baton, Toscanini said quietly: "Gentlemen, God has told me how he wants this piece of music played and you are hindering God." - J. B. Fowler, {Basic Bible Sermons on Philippians }(Nashville: Broadman Press, 1991) 61-62
I. God has given to us His best; can we give Him less than our best?
From a sermon by Gerald Flury, Pursuing Excellence, 6/13/2010