Fritz Reiner

Fritz Reiner was born in Budapest, Hungary, December 19, 1888, and studied at the Royal Conservatory in Budapest. His first conducting position was Budapest’s Volksoper (1911-14) and the Court Opera in Dresden (1914-21). He came to the United States as Conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony in 1922, and from 1931 to 1941, was Conductor of the Curtis Institute Orchestra. He was Music Director of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra from 1938-48, followed by the Metropolitan Opera (1948-53). His tenure with the Chicago Symphony was from 1953 to 1963. Reiner passed away on November 15, 1963.

Jacobs’ relationship with Reiner began at the Curtis Institute when Jacobs was fifteen and where for seven years, Reiner conducted and Jacobs performed in the Curtis Institute Orchestra. Next, Reiner brought Jacobs to the Pittsburgh Symphony for five years. “I grew up with Reiner as my conductor, so everything since then had to be easier. He was a wonderful conductor.”

 

 

From Arnold Jacobs: Song and Wind*

Reiner’s dark side was also well known among the CSO’s musicians. Knowing Reiner and Jacobs were together at both the Curtis Institute and Pittsburgh, the musicians asked Jacobs about Reiner. He told them that, “Reiner would be a fine choice as the new conductor, and that he was not nearly as difficult to work with as it might appear. Reiner was hired and reunited with Jacobs again. “I think he just kept following me around. I saw more of him, while I was growing up, than I did of my own father.” Jacobs and Reiner had spent a total of twenty-two years performing together.

“Reiner had a bad reputation among musicians; he was a very difficult conductor to play under. I pointed out that he would probably be more mellow as he was getting older. When he came in, he was not only not more mellow, but less mellow. In Pittsburgh, he had his ups and downs, but in Chicago, it was mostly down.”

The famous relationship with Reiner and the Chicago Symphony lasted from 1953-63. Later, Paul Haugan asked Jacobs, “Do you think Reiner was more or less responsible for building the Chicago Symphony for what it’s known to be today?”

Jacobs responded, “The Chicago Symphony, for as long as I can recall, was an excellent orchestra—this was a great German orchestra before I ever joined it. I came here in the early 1940s, but I used to listen to concerts when Stock was the conductor. Reiner put his imprint on the orchestra very definitely, but he did not take an inferior group and make it into a superior group. He took a very excellent orchestra and then put on his style of interpretation. In much of what we are doing today, there are still some of the elements of the rehearsal time that we spent with Reiner, and those of us who had been with him and knew him over the years still have much of his style characteristics. But the question was, ‘Was he responsible for this being a great orchestra?’ I would say that he was very helpful, but it was a fine orchestra when he took it over.”

“Reiner did not want any nervous players in his orchestra, fearing that they would jeopardize his concerts. Finding out who these players were was difficult. He felt that all players would become nervous during rehearsal if they were subjected to a certain amount of pressure, and they would begin to react. If they were not able to hold up and produce sounds properly during a rehearsal under pressure, then they would have the same potential to fall apart during a concert. He didn’t want people like that in his orchestra. It was his philosophy to test people occasionally. If he could get them a little unglued and they would fall apart, they belonged in some other orchestra, not his. This was planned on his part. We called him ‘the great leveler’ because you all took turns no matter who you were or how well he liked you, you took your turn regardless.

“I remember the first time he conducted Wagner’s Meistersinger Prelude with us [in Chicago]. He kept going over the same short passage, just a few brass chords. Nobody missed a note. Finally, after half a dozen times, he laughed and went on.”

Perhaps the most famous incident with Reiner’s testing occurred when the orchestra was rehearsing Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra. Reiner kept repeating the well-known trumpet passage until it was apparent that he was testing Adolph Herseth. Herseth hit the high C every time. This legend has grown throughout the years as to how often Reiner repeated the section and Herseth’s response. It seems that the rumors are better than the real story. Apparently, Herseth simply looked at his watch and said, “I’ve got until 12:30.”

Reiner tested Jacobs about every third year. “I soon became aware of his testing, and at intermissions, particularly in Pittsburgh and Chicago, I would play the parts alone because he was always around listening. I would take the difficult parts and play them where he could hear them, and at my own leisure and pace. It would sort of get him off my back. He liked the idea that you would have enough initiative to cover the material without jeopardizing performances.”

“He wouldn’t just fire people off hand. If you made good—he always asked for good playing—and if you made a few mistakes, he might hop on you and chew you out a bit. But if the playing came around and was what he wanted, he would always acknowledge it. It was not just a one-way street—he wouldn’t just find fault. He would very definitely acknowledge good work.”

Not all of Reiner’s firings happened behind the scenes when a player was dismissed and was suddenly not present at the next rehearsal. There were firings during rehearsals.

“At the start of one of our seasons in Pittsburgh, he brought in a percussionist. We were playing a work that involved the bass drum and there had to be accuracy. I don’t recall—it was not the Rite of Spring, but it was something with a counting problem and the bass drummer miscounted. Reiner asked to go over it again. I think that around the fourth repetition, he said, ‘You’re not going to make it. Good bye. Go home. Don’t come back.’ They paid the man for the season, because he was under contract, but he was out!”

Reiner purposely conducted with a small beat to force your attention to it. One day a bass player came with a telescope and asked Reiner “Hey pops, where’s the beat?” “Reiner laughed—he fired him, but he laughed,” said Jacobs.

Through all of this, Jacobs has the greatest respect for Reiner.

“Fritz Reiner was one of the truly great conductors of our age. I do not think he received quite the recognition he deserved. He did not use words nearly as much as many conductors. He was able to communicate through body language and facial expression. The stick technique was always very good. Even as a young conductor his stick technique was impeccable. He was a little stingy with it, but his philosophy was that a small use of the stick would force your attention to it.”

*Arnold Jacobs: Song and Wind, Copyright 1996 Windsong Press, Ltd., All rights reserved.