Eighty birthdays, thought Arturo Toscanini, were enough for a while. When his musicians sent him a present on his becoming an octogenarian two years ago, he forbade them to do it again. One relenting proviso: if they liked, they might each save a dime a year to buy him a present when he reached 90. Until then, he scowled, no more fuss.
One day last week, Arturo Toscanini reached a pink-and-white 82. There was no fuss. His musicians, a handful of distinguished singers, and a Robert Shaw-trained chorus of 60 voices gave him the kind...
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