Last week, a group of stragglers arrived late for a Toscanini concert in Carnegie Hall, Manhattan. They clattered down the aisle, banged down their seats, threw back their coats. They may have thought themselves unnoticed but the little man on the conductor's dais had been disturbed. He wheeled on them, crossed his arms in a Napoleonic attitude, stared them up and down and said, quite distinctly, "You are late!" Philadelphia audiences have been frequently rebuked by Conductor Leopold Stokowski; Manhattan, never before, by any man.
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