Boston

One Friday afternoon, years ago, the Boston Symphony Orchestra--Dr. Muck at the wheel--played Chabrier's rhapsody, Espana--brilliant, flaming. The audience roared approbation, kept on roaring. Dr. Muck looked worried. He turned back the page of the score, looked at the audience, look at the orchestra. Plainly they wanted the piece again. Plainly he wanted to give it to them. But precedent -- sacred precedent -- forbade repetition. Dr. Muck's courage failed him. After all, Boston was Boston. He went on to the next number.

The other day Serge Koussevitzky, new conductor of the same organization, played Rimsky-Korsakov's Scherzo of the Bee. The audience liked it-- liked its imaginative humor, its showiness. They clapped loud and long. The piece is very short. Without hesitation, Mr. Koussevitzky turned back the page, lifted his wand; the Scherzo of the Bee was replayed.

Precedent tumbled about his ears-- but the audience was pleased. The police refrained from intervention. No bolt fell from Heaven. No harm appears to have come of the episode.