THE TUCSON COMMUNITY SYMPHONY-AND HOW IT GREW

A sliding scale zenging from Sye to Sy to cover the whole . Nevertheless, when the by-haws wers formally weksan in 1933, thasy 1933, they were reefsood by an introductory statement which said in affect that the purpose of the Twoson Symphony was to render symphonie ramail: n. an artistic sencer for the maxic-loving public... soreal its barntias to yourh educsus, and, foeilly, for the shople pleware of paying for the освети советus. An sxception to the simple pleasure of playing gratis whe she conductor who was to be paid around Soca. Even the first couslector had been given a accell tokea paymont. "Harry Jalani called a masting in li's office," recuensivers Cand Van Van Hobe, and witsn we all got there, I was seked to make a walk around the block. block. When When I I got back, they had voted me a boaas of Sye." The first: Eraries was pdd. She was Star reporter, Lace WAC colonel and nurs Caiversity of Vermoх рrобаюк, Веку Bandel. And that was the extent of the paid staff. If the gloan of the depression bung beavy over the Symphony, it we met with a light smile and a tight parsa. Porcies wers counted. It was specifically sented in the 1933 by-kws that shy ampelinre over is worki require the approval of the president, das crossover and the business minngor. When, in the late '30's the Pacron's Society raised Stico, it was, in cha recolection of Mizm. Charles Pascoe, a long-tive Board samber, conse for grest rejaloing. (The 1960 Pacron's Drive achieved abom $17.500.) In the noso's the University of Arizuna took the Symphony vadar in wing. All the conducton, with cas enixneion, after Van Fluke sand until the pement схи ducker, were Arizona staff: de Lucs, Wilson, Coleman, Johnson, Fain and Goodman. The University provided a free comcut hall, Wooral men of its masic Borary, and evox lestrumen Early day grust artista waze racented primarily for the ranks of the University staff and included such favorite standbya as pianists Julia Rabell, Eleanor Alo and Robert O'Connor. Hoose guests with music reputa clome ware passed into servics. Support for the crehaus drough the newчириs was consistently susanch and gecereus. Frequent wers its samong ine news such as, Many are the fine comments beard about our Bymphoury. Life withal was very plecstoc. The years rolled aluny The Second World War thiened the realks bet cind not soll she vaion. There ware three concerts incinding the children's comment, kamussarabie swall anes, some of them "silver," and each season ended on a mote of thanks focan the Heard of the Symphony Society vo the rosnobers of the Symphony orchestra, Then came Ossober 15, sosa, sad with a swiftness tac more nearly reszabled mollessas after all these yans bot a strength that was epperunt, A. F. of M., Local #yya, scrock.

In a telegram sent to Conductor Sam Fein and read to a hastily amenbied gathering of Board members the Шайса атомераced that the nineteen unica mamiben ka the orchestra (twenty inchiding Conductor Fain) had voted no leave the encheers and not to go back undi they were promised pay. The Union suggested grs per concert and tben, possibly to head off another moonomicscing band who might barn up to Expisin the Problem, ofsred es rine the mowy. The tining was cadenleted to produce action, it was Just before the first scheduled concert of the 1950-51 season. And not to underestimate the abilities of those remaining, including today's concertmistress (on leave) Anna Mae Sharp and her replacement, Deonisie Trifan, it was the hard core and backbone and the conductor who were going.

From the stricken Board came varied cries. Some were pugnacious, "Fight, don't give an inch," others were of stern reproof, "It has been proven that the community will not support the orchestra if a larger budget is necessary." (The 1949-50 balance sheet showed $3286.08 spent, $1975.17, profit.) Thundered The Arizona Daily Star, "They joined knowing there would be no remuneration." Mingled were cries of anguish, "This is the beginning of the end." One lone voice belonging to the U. of A. Fine Arts dean, Olaf Andersen, said, "Pay."

The Union was adamant. No less so the Board. Said playing president violinist, Cornelia Du Bois, to the Union, "Gentlemen, we shall go ahead without you."

Today the Tucson Symphony has a playing roster of more than 85 musicians. The subscription concerts average not quite one a month during the six month musical season. Concerts for school children add another seven performances to the schedule. (Over 20,000 Santa Cruz Valley school children travel to the University of Arizona auditorium to hear these concerts for which the orchestra members receive no pay, play on time off given by their employers.) Among the Symphony's guest artists have been Marian Anderson, Benny Goodman, Arnold Eidus, Jan Peerce, George and Ruggiero Ricci, Van Cliburn and Ania Dorfman. Its program includes (or will include) Beethoven's tremendously challenging Ninth Symphony rarely attempted by community orchestras. A tape recording of the Cesar Franck D Minor Symphony made at the final concert of the 1959-60 season was considered a great success. The Symphony Society has as its president violinist, Union member, 1950 departee, Albert Goorwitch, unanimously re-elected from the year before.

Obviously, something good happened.

It was not, as long-time Society members point out, a single thing, but several.

In the first place, the Union stood its ground. Today every player in the Tucson Symphony is paid something. It is variously called "expense money," "baby-sitting money;" the scale is sliding; the top is now $40 per concert, the Union ups it a little bit every couple of years, hopes to achieve a goal of $65-$70. Even most of the sturdiest opponents of the plan originally, acknowledge that this has been a vital part of the Symphony's growth. A good winner, the Union, through national funds available to it, contributes money to the Symphony-just under $1000 in the '59-'60 season for the Junior Symphony. (An organization spear-headed by Cornelia Du Bois, who received an Arizona Federation of Music Clubs 1959 "Award of Merit" for her work with it, the Junior Symphony is made up of players whose ages range between twelve and eighteen years.) The Union expects to contribute about $500 to the String Quartet which the Symphony Society will be sending around to the elementary schools during 1960-61; it offers a $2500 music scholarship; once picked up the tab for a small-scale symphony. And last spring, as a kind of ultimate in harmony, the Union donated the use of their building for the annual meeting of the Tucson Symphony Society.

The second thing, not necessarily listing them in the order of their importance, which happened to the Tucson Symphony was the founding of the Tucson Festival in 1950. The Festival Society views the cultural scene with an organizing eye and an aim toward reinforcing and supplementing. One of the Festival Society's early contributions was in 1953 when it gave $500 to print the music for the joint Civic Chorus-Tucson Symphony American premiere of Franz Liszt's "Christus." It would be unthinkable to the Festival Society not to have a Tucson Symphony.There was the Women's Auxiliary of the Tucson Symphony. Begun as a committee in 1949 it flourished under the presidency of its originator, Mrs. Charles Pascoe (a 1959 AFMC Award of Merit winner) and has continued under the leadership of five hard-working presidents (term, two years) and in the 1959-60 season raised $8500. The Auxiliary sponsors the flossy Cotillion, a debutant ball; the Mad Hatter's Breakfast, an intraauxiliary enthusiasm rouser; and Symphony Silhouettes, which are previews of concerts coming up. During the past seven years the Silhouettes have grown into substantial crowds of two hundred and more under the efficient program guidance of cosmopolitan, European-born Grete Titche, wife of a Veteran's Administration doctor. The present Silhouette chairman is Lucille Betten who is also a first violinist in the Symphony.

And there was more: the Arizona population explosion, the arrival on the scene of the late John Crowder (who succeeded Olaf Andersen as the Dean of the College of Fine Arts at the U. of A.), the hiring of ambitious, talented and enterprising Frederic Balazs, conductor. But to go back, next there was John Charles Thomas.

True to the word of President Du Bois in the fall of 1950 the Symphony played without its union members. The conductor was a brave radio sportscaster, Stanley (Norman) Schultz who "saved the day." ("I don't know much about conducting," Mr. Schultz confided once to a concert goer, "I just give them the old 'boom-boomboom'.")At the conclusion of the season's concerts Mr. Schultz reported to the Board that the orchestra's morale was high, and then he dropped his bombshell, he said they must be paid. The conclusion was inevitable. But to pay there had to be more money. It was at this point that the Board took desperate action. Its members contracted to import John Charles Thomas at a guarantee of $3000, a figure just under their previous year's entire budget.The effect had to be electric. And it was. Tickets went like hotcakes. On the strength of the Thomas concert the price of season tickets was doubled. It rose from $5 to $10. A packed University auditorium (2200) greeted Mr. Thomas as he strode out onto the great, wide stage, opened his mouth and let the celebrated baritone pour forth, The next day the Symphony bank account was in the black. John Charles Thomas, however, was seeing red. His notices were terrible. He left promising hotly never to return, not even to fly over the place. But he hadhe touch of Midas is felt throughout the highlands at this time of the year and the Season's touch has turned much of the green to gold. Is there anything in all of Nature so radiant as an aspen grove whose green dress has turned the color of a heap of polished golden-yellow coins, vibrant and alive in the cool, crisp sunlight of a high October day? Or the cottonwoods and sycamores along a lowland creek in early November whose leaves, just a few days ago were shimmering green, casting cool shadows of welcome relief against the hot sun, have changed to the color of gold coins slightly burnished by usage, and whose music is crackly and dry in the wind?

THE TOUCH OF MIDAS

Autumn as “the third season of the year between summer and winter-in America commonly called fall.” (Sounds like he's hedging a little bit, to us.) Our beloved, admirable and crusty old friend, Fowler, in Modern English Usage (to whom we turn for a more complete explanation) seems to get a trifle hot under the collar when he writes: “Fall as the synonym for the ordinary autumn is either an Americanism or provincialism or archaism. As the last, it has its right and wrong usage. As either of the others, it is out of place except in dialogue.” (That's putting it right on the line, our esteemed English friend.) In his The King's English, he becomes more gentle and considerably more explanatory in discussing this subject. He writes: “It must be recognized that they and we [he is discussing the Yankees and the English], in parting some hundreds of years ago, started on slightly divergent roads in language long before we did so in politics. In the details of divergence, they have sometimes had the better of us. Fall is better on its merits than autumn, in every way: it is short, Saxon (like the other three season names), picturesque; it reveals its derivation to everyone who uses it, not to the scholar only, like autumn; and we once had as good a right to it This wondrous Season has such a power and impact on the bedazzled senses of the poor beholder it is the only Season of the year with two names: Autumn and Fall. To straighten out our own bedazzled senses in this matter, it is time to call on the experts before we proceed with our narrative, so that we can proceed properly and correctly. Webster, usually authoritative and concise, describes