Scenario for Inexactness

1961: Lincoln Center management says New York Philharmonic Hall will be "the finest musical instrument in America." 1962: Hall opens. Critics say it is acoustical dud--mushy, strident, dry, opaque, flat, cold. Hall's 136 sound-reflecting "clouds," suspended from ceiling, are tilted, lowered, raised. No help. Diffusion of sound so unbalanced that best vantage point is, ironically, cheapest seat in top balcony. New York Philharmonic musicians complain they cannot hear each other onstage, say hall is glorified $17.7 million pinball machine. Mood of pessimism pervades. Rumors circulate that visiting orchestras are going to boycott splendorous blue-and-gold hall in favor of mellow surroundings of Carnegie Hall. Soloists panic, talk of canceling performances. Hall management says it takes time for ear to adapt. Hall Acoustician Leo Beranek, who spent four years studying 54 of world's finest concert and opera houses in preparation, pleads: "I predicted in the beginning that it would take a year to get the hall into its ultimate condition." Lincoln Center President William Schuman says: "Help."

1963: Panel of acoustical experts called in. Beranek feels slighted. Gaps between 500-lb. clouds are partially patched up with strips of black plywood. Slabs of plywood and plaster are mounted behind sides of stage. Balconies are reshaped. Lead curtain is hung behind blue-and-gold mesh screen at rear of stage. Sound-dampening Fiberglas is spread across rear wall. Total cost: $500,000. Bell Telephone Laboratories sends man to evaluate hall's sound with new space-age computer. Machine says major problems--lack of bass, uneven distribution of sound, fluttery echoes--are largely corrected. Critics say machine has flipped circuit; their ears hear otherwise. Musicians say now it is like playing in the bottom of huge barrel. Conductor George Szell, after conducting at hall for four weeks, describes panel's contribution: "Imagine a woman, lame, a hunchback, cross-eyed and with two warts. They've removed the warts." Schuman decides back-to-work.

1964: German Acoustician Heinrich Keilholz takes over. Clouds are raised and further patched up. Their function is now described as "decorative." Undulating, floor-to-ceiling panels of plywood constructed around stage. Auditorium walls reshaped. Two-foot-deep "reflector box" constructed around stage apron. Air-conditioning units are muffled. Total cost: $335,000. Critics say echoes persist and bass has developed thudding sound. Consensus is that sound is warmer, but still nothing approaching that of Vienna's Grosser Musikvereinssaal, Amsterdam's Concertgebouw or Boston's Symphony Hall--all built before acoustics became a science.

1965: Keilholz decides plush interior is absorbing too much sound. Hall's deep-pile gold carpeting is rolled up and replaced with black vinyl. All 1,384 thick-cushioned seats on main floor are removed and replaced with 1,502 skinnier wood-back models. Rivulet-shaped panels are tacked on side walls to reflect flow of sound from stage. Hall looks like it was just given permanent wave. Total cost: $470,000. Acoustically, critics happier. Musicians too. Sound is livelier. Bass and high strengthened, echoes reduced. But visually, verdict is negative. Hall looks completely different. Blue walls now recreation-room russet. Curling wall panels clash with hexagonal clouds. New seats resemble those in cheap movie houses. But Philharmonic Hall at last has sound it can live with.

"If we have learned anything from all this," sighs Philharmonic Architect Max Abramovitz, "it is that acoustics is still an inexact science."

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