A Symphony of Her Own

By Lev Grossman / Baltimore

Most children have to be dragged to the symphony. When Marin Alsop's parents took her to see Leonard Bernstein, she went nuts. She was 9 years old. "It's a little weird, isn't it?" she says. "But when I saw Bernstein conduct, I was like, Aha! He's having such a good time, he's jumping around, and he's in charge. I think that's what I'll do."

And she did. The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra (BSO) announced last week that it had chosen Alsop to be the orchestra's new conductor. The changing of the guard at an orchestra, even a top-flight outfit like the Baltimore Symphony, isn't usually a matter of widespread interest--it's not as if Alsop were dating Tom Cruise or anything--but this particular appointment is remarkable because high-level orchestral conducting is one of the last of the great professional boys' clubs, and Alsop will be the first woman ever to lead a major American symphony orchestra. She also finds herself in the awkward position of having to face down an orchestral rebellion before she even picks up a baton.

It's not easy to become a conductor. There are formal academic programs, but you can really learn to conduct only by doing it, and to do it you need an orchestra. "You have no instrument to practice," Alsop told TIME. "You can't get any experience." In her 20s Alsop worked as a freelance violinist in New York City, but after hours she would bribe her musician friends with pizza to let her lead them through Mozart symphonies. When she couldn't get a regular conducting position, she founded her own ensemble, the Concordia Orchestra. Never let it be said that Alsop's resolve is less than steely.

Finding an orchestra wasn't the only challenge she faced. For an art form devoted to exalting the human spirit, classical music is plagued by painfully unenlightened gender politics. Up until the middle of the 20th century, it was rare for orchestras to hire female instrumentalists, let alone female conductors. The Vienna Philharmonic was all male until 1997, when under the pressure of popular opinion it finally hired a female harpist. Among the top 75 symphony orchestras in the U.S., there are still only three female conductors. "The last domain of gender within the music business is the position of conductor," says Deborah Borda, president of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Association. "Somebody like Marin is a real pioneer." Alsop is philosophical about the problem. "I think it's purely the fact that people are not used to it," she says.

In 1993 she was tapped to head the fledgling Colorado Symphony in Denver. In 2002 the Bournemouth Symphony hired her away, making her the first woman to head a major orchestra in England. In 2003, Gramophone, the big classical-music magazine published in Britain (they have those over there), picked her as its Artist of the Year.

And then the Baltimore Symphony came calling. Alsop was seen as new blood and a new direction: she's only 48, young for a conductor at this level. She's funny and approachable--she has a habit of chatting informally to audiences from the podium--and she has been known to moonlight (on the violin) with a swing band. She can handle the warhorses of the repertoire--she just recorded Brahms' Symphony No. 1 with the London Philharmonic--but she also champions living American composers like Philip Glass. She can even be heard, on occasion, to utter the phrase way cool. "There's this whole archetypal image of what a conductor is, this inaccessible person with an accent and an ascot," Alsop says. "This is the age of collaboration rather than autocracy."

It seemed like a good match. But when it was leaked that Alsop was a front runner, the seven instrumentalists on the search committee issued a statement reading, in part, "Approximately 90 percent of the orchestra musicians believe that ending the search process now, before we are sure the best candidate has been found, would be a disservice to the patrons of the BSO."

The statement didn't mention Alsop specifically--it didn't have to--but a scathing letter, obtained by the Washington Post, from one of the orchestra's board members did. "The overriding justification for eliminating Alsop is that 90% of the BSO musicians oppose her appointment," the board member wrote. "They say that she either does not hear problems or--because her technical limitations prevent her from fixing them--that she ignores them." The board became deadlocked, musicians vs. management. "The musicians clearly did not have her as a preference," says Decatur H. Miller, a 35-year veteran of the BSO's board. "It was painful." It was no picnic for Alsop either. "It was bizarre," she says, laughing ruefully. "It was like being caught in a black hole. I was like, Wow, what happened?"

A symphony orchestra is many things, but a democracy is not one of them. The nonmusician board members stuck to their guns, and Alsop's appointment was officially confirmed. The musicians put out a measured, tactful statement expressing both that they were disappointed and that they were willing to work with Alsop. "It's unfortunate that [the conflict] went public--nobody gained by that," says Jane Marvine, head of the BSO Players Committee and an English-horn player. "But as painful as this was for both her and us, I think we each may bring a little bit more to the relationship because of it."

All that remained was for Alsop to address the troops. She kept it short--six minutes, by her reckoning--and sweet: "I said, 'Listen, I don't know how this got to this place. But I need to know that we're a team. It'll be hard for me, and I can put this behind us if you can.'" Alsop offered to leave the room and let the musicians talk it over among themselves. "I didn't even get backstage. They said, 'Come back!' It was nice. If anything this week could have been nice, that was it." --With reporting by Melissa August/Washington and Lina Lofaro/New York

With reporting by Melissa August/Washington, Lina Lofaro/New York