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In Boston. Symphonophiles, little ones, big ones, long-nosed ones, pug-nosed ones, found their places in Symphony Hall, arranged themselves, sat, as well mannered as could be, until Conductor Sergei Koussevitzky appeared. Then they exploded, rose in their places, beat their gloved palms together, would not behave until their idol had bent himself into a dozen bows. The overture from Der Freischutz opened the program. Then came two Debussy nocturnes, "Clouds" and "Festivals," beautifully read, Prokofiev's suite from the ballet Chout, new to Boston, rhythmical, gay; Beethoven's "Eroica" symphony, dramatic, majestic.
Great Ones
Gatti-Casazza. In awful majesty from his swivel chair ' throne, Impresario Guilio Gatti-Casazza of the Metropolitan Opera Company, received newspapermen one day last week. A "handout" informed them that he had chosen La, Vestale to open the opera season on Nov. 1, with Rosa Ponselle heading the cast; that Tosca with Jeritza would open the Metropolitan season in Philadelphia on Nov. 2; Lucia the same night in Brooklyn with Marion Talley. Asked if there would be a special performance for Queen Marie of Rumania, Signer Gatti said: "Any performance at the Metropolitan Opera House is good enough for any queen."
Jeritza. In Vienna last week Maria Jeritza was preparing to leave for the U. S., heard a tooting and shouting outside her house, went to the window and was serenaded by several hundred admirers, led by the University band. Pleased, she flung them flowers.
Garden. In Paris, Mary Garden, pale, unreal, sang a farewell Pelleas and Melisande at the Opera Comique, won a big ovation from Americans visiting there, from Parisians who recalled that it was she who had created the leading role in April, 1902, that other members of the cast had been in that same first performance.
Strauss. For more than a year officials of the Vienna Staatsoper have striven to persuade Richard Strauss to come back to the fold. Last week they announced he would return this year, conduct 20 performances opening with the local premiere of his opera Intermezzo.
Inventory
Laymen know little of the concert business, of the mechanism behind the booking of favorite artists at convenient times and places. Last week Arthur Judson, manager of the New York Philharmonic and Philadelphia Orchestras, of such famed individuals as Sophie Braslau, Sigrid Onegin, Efrem Zimbalist, took an account of stock, reported that at the demand of the people retail music merchants are buying more and more music where they used to buy names; that thanks to the increasing interest clubs are taking in music and to the development of music courses, especially in the Middle West, medium-priced artists are getting steady engagements; that tables have turned in regard to the radio, that now, instead of as an interference, it is being looked on as a profitable advertising scheme; that according to his books music sells itself in the following ratio throughout the U. S.: 25% for the East, 5% for the Pacific Coast, 25% for the South, 45% for the Middle West.
Grin