Wreath

In the public auditorium of which Portland, Ore., is proud, Conductor Willem van Hoogstraten last week led his symphony orchestra through an orgy of fantasy. A native of Portland, Dent Mowrey, had studied music in Paris, and in dreamy moments had idled over the lle de la Cite, whereon is the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Student Mowrey would enter the felted front doors, would sniff at the dank air, would think he could hear the paint cracking on the pictures. Outdoors, on the grey square, he would crane his head up at the rain-spouts, which old artisans had carved in the appearance of fantastic beasts. They were gargoyles, that seemed to droop their eyes in mischievous lure, in vague invitation to Student Mowrey. He pictured the old church standing silent in moonlight, and the gargoyles coming down from their towers for a rowdy riot of dance and clatter. This was material for a symphony, Student Mowrey, cold, sober, realized.

Later he did succeed in phrasing his ideas into a pianoforte solo, ''The Gargoyles of NotreDame," and it was this solo, elaborately orchestrated, that Conductor van Hoogstraten led last week. It was the first composition by a native of Portland that the symphony orchestra had performed, and Conductor van Hoogstraten took quick advantage of the situation. When the first clatter of applause quieted itself there were brought to the platform two wreaths, "evidently denoting genius, and certainly denoting musicianship and adeptness," wrote the Portland Oregonian's music reporter. Conductor van Hoogstraten, grinning, put one wreath about the shoulders of Composer Mowrey. Composer Mowrey sought to drape the other on Conductor van Hoogstraten's shoulders. But Conductor van Hoogstraten ducked.