Walking with musical giants (1): A son of Salzburg.

The statue of von Karajan

By the side of the Salzach River that runs through the ancient town of Salzburg in Austria there stands a rather grand and well appointed – although not overly extravagant – house. It is adjacent to one of the town’s bridges which cross the Salzach, a tributary of one of the great rivers of the world, the Danube. The footbridge sparkles in the mid day sun, its glitter not the result of some ancient gilding – although gold leaf or silver would not look amiss in such a wealthy and splendid town as Saltzburg – but rather something far more modern and prosaic, namely metal locks – thousands of them. Like many towns across the world the modern penchant for lovers to fix metal locks to the railings of bridges has come to Saltzburg; lovers swear their everlasting love while fixing the lock to the bridge and then throw the key into the river and thus, hopefully, ensure their relationship for all time. 

The maestro in typical pose

We had come to Salzburg at the start of our trip to the area. Our itinerary to take a cruise down the Danube visiting new places – amongst them Salzburg, Bratislava and Vienna – and at the same time to undertake a kind of musical odyssey to seek out the musical heritage of this part of the world – especially the world of Mozart and Haydn, two of our favourite composers. Middle Europe – and especially Austria - has a rich musical pedigree; in by-gone   years a myriad of small kingdoms, dukedoms, and principalities formed the political, economic and social structure of the region. Consequently, each duke, prince or king had his own court musicians to provide entertainment, liturgical music, military pomp and, not unimportantly, to impress one’s fellow royal houses. The result was that a wealth of opportunities arose for musicians and composers to ply their trade and it is from this area of Germany and middle Europe that many of the world’s greatest composers and musical minds made their names: Mozart, Haydn, Bach, Handel, and where many of the world’s greatest musical venues are situated: the Vienna Opera House, the Esterhazy Palace, the Schönbrunn Palace, the Leipzig Gewandhaus, the Prague Opera House and many, many more. Once this musical base was established in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries others built upon it: Beethoven, Strauss, Mendelssohn, Smetana, Wagner and the rest – middle Europe can rightly claim to be regarded as the cradle of the western classical music tradition. 

Von Karajan's birthplace in Salzburg

But back to the house, whose many windows look out onto the glittering bridge. The house is  quietly imposing – perhaps, one might think, the home of some well to do merchant or city grandee. There is no sign or obvious clue as to its ownership or heritage until one stops and looks through the perimeter railings –  then all becomes clear – or at least to me it did a couple of weeks ago as Pat and I began our wonderful holiday in the fine city of Salzburg. As I stood in the burning morning heat – temperatures already in the upper twenties and threatening to rise higher by mid day I saw in front of me, within the perimeter railings a statue - an instantly recognisable figure in instantly recognisable pose. I did not need to read the inscription at the base of the statue – this, I knew, was one of the world’s great musicians, one of the greatest conductors to grace the world’s greatest concert halls, the conductor who for half a life time led and was synonymous with what was (and maybe still is) the world’s greatest orchestra, the Berlin Philharmonic. This was Herbert von Karajan, arguably the greatest conductor of the 20^th century – a man and a musician whose musical skills, conducting, lifestyle and indeed reputation made him one of the very great superstars of the musical world and indeed the modern world – and this was von Karajan’s family home, where he was born. Today the building houses the Von Karajan Institute where the great conductor’s musical legacy is preserved and where his archives are maintained for the use of musical scholars.

Von Karajan’s statue stands looking towards the river and to Salzburg, and as I peered through the railings whilst trying to get the perfect holiday photograph I was reminded of how petite he was – a fact that does not seem to “fit” with what the popular view of him is, for in musical terms and by reputation he was a giant - both as a musician and amongst his peers, who were the cream of the world's greatest musicians. He was, so the von Karajan myth would have us believe, autocratic - perhaps even aristocratic; dominating, some say dictatorial, a commanding presence, perhaps arrogant, petulant, brooding, totally professional and severely demanding of the world class musicians with whom he worked.

It might be wrong to say that he was feared but without doubt those who played under his baton knew that their conductor would accept nothing but the best – and the best was exactly whatever he decided it would be! Von Karajan brooked no criticism or opinion different from  his own! No shrinking violet was he! - there was only one maestro, the supreme von Karajan, and he expected people to know it and accept it! To von Karajan it was simply the natural order of things - and although his musical peers and fans were aware of his egotistical and petulant style, they totally respected, admired and looked up to him for in the end, they knew, he brought something to his music, his orchestra and his audiences that no other conductor of the time could even begin to do. He was simply "the maestro".

Two musical giants: von Karajan and the great cellist Rostropovich

Born in 1908 the charismatic von Karajan was by far the dominant conductor and musically commanding figure of the mid and late 20^th century musical world until his death in 1989 - and this in an age of some of the greatest musicians ever: Callas, Rostropovich, Tortelier, Menuhin and many, many more. He was – and still is – the top selling classical music recording artist of all time having sold in excess of 200 million records; he could command fees that would make the most highly paid pop star's eyes water with envy. Judged to be a musical child prodigy at the age of 8 in 1916 he entered the world renowned Mozartarium in Salzburg to further his piano studies at that tender age.  He was an instant success, his teachers united in their praise and admiration for the youngster's talents. Whilst at the Mozartarium he was attracted to conducting and by the time he was 30 years old he had already made his conducting debut, not with a little known orchestra upon which he could "cut his musical and conducting teeth", but first with the world famous Vienna Philharmonic and then with the majestic and incomparable Berlin Philharmonic. His debut performances were hailed by both audiences and  Berlin critics who referred to the young von Karajan as Das Wunder Karajan (the Karajan miracle). One critic asserted that Karajan's "success with Wagner's demanding work "Tristan und Isolde" sets himself alongside Wilhelm Furtwangler - we are in a new age of a  new and true maestro” ; Furtwangler was at that time regarded as by far the greatest opera conductor in the world.

Von Karajan with his third wife Eliette, a

French model - they  married in 1958  and

stayed together until his death in 1989

As a result von Karajan's fame spread through the musical establishment like wild fire and he quickly received a contract with Deutsche Grammophon - a relationship which lasted virtually throughout his life – and which was mutually beneficial. It made von Karajan a multi-millionaire and at the same time put Deutsche Grammophon on the world map and the company at the peak of classical music recording industry. It has been said that in post war Germany when the country was struggling to get back on its economic feet Deutsche Grammophon's success based upon von Karajan's recordings was a critical factor in boosting the country's economic turn around.

A much loved recording: von Karajan,

Deutsche Grammophon and Karajan's great child prodigy

and, later, muse the then thirteen year old Anne-Sophie Mutter -

now a superstar in her own right

The rest, as they say, is history – von Karajan took by storm the classical music world of the mid 20^th century and in addition to his musical achievements made news as a jet setting superstar. He flew his own private jet to take up concert commitments,  was often photographed sitting in a stylish sports car such as a Porche and wherever he went there seemed to be a chic, beautiful and often easily recognisable young woman on his arm. Von Karajan moved in the top circles of high European and international society, his photograph appearing regularly in glossy fashion magazines and high end journals.  No great concert hall was complete until the maestro had conducted there: La Scala, the New York Met, Bayreuth, Covent Garden; no great opera diva could consider herself at the apex of her career until she had sung under the maestro's baton.

With Maria Callas

A popular quip in those days was that when von Karajan  took a taxi and the taxi driver asked where the maestro wished to be taken von Karajan's reply was always "It doesn't matter - they want me everywhere!"  A quip, maybe, but in essence the truth. There were downsides. His membership of the Nazi Party in his youth was a feature that dogged him throughout his life but that apart his towering intellect, work ethic, musical talents, charisma, desire for musical perfection and the ability to make front page news ensured that he was unchallenged as the world’s greatest conductor and the Berlin Philharmonic indisputably the world's finest orchestra.

In 1950s jet setting style, at the  wheel of his Porche

Von Karajan’s reputation as a hard task master and as a man who did not suffer fools gladly ensured a wealth of stories – many of them apocryphal – but all adding to the myth that was and still is Herbert von Karajan.  One of my favourites is one told by the world famous flautist James Galway who was principle flute player at the Berlin Philharmonic under von Karajan. Galway told of a night when the orchestra were playing a concert and half way through there was an electricity failure and the hall was plunged into total darkness. “The orchestra” said Galway "never missed a beat despite gasps from the audience”. They carried on throughout the long piece, stopping, as usual, at the end of each movement and beginning the next in perfect time despite not being able to see their conductor's baton - the hall still being in complete darkness. Every member of the orchestra knew the work by heart so they just carried on although they could not see a thing. “Suddenly” said Galway “as the final few moments of the piece came the lights came back on and, to a man and woman, every orchestra member was on the same correct page of the score. In the dark they had all been turning the pages of the scores over even though they could not see them – and von Karajan was still conducting exactly in time and place with his orchestra!” Such was the discipline instilled and expected by von Karajan; no-one argued with him! In modern day terms one might suggest that when von Karajan said "jump" the answer was not "why" but "how high!"

Von Karajan Platz outside the great Opera House in Vienna

Other stories have poked a little gentle fun at the maestro. I like particularly the joke that tells of a musician who dies and finds himself sitting in an orchestra composed of all the greatest performers who have ever lived. Looking at the cello section he recognizes Casals, Rostropovich and Tortelier. And then at the violinists where he doesn't initially recognize the first violinist so he asks his seatmate.  "Oh, that’s Paganini” says his companion “and next to him Yehudi Menuhin and then David Oistrakh ". And so it goes on – wherever he looks he sees the greatest musicians the world has ever known sitting around him.  The man then notices there is a piano and sitting at the piano waiting to play is Glenn Gould whilst in the wings waiting their turn he can see the unmistakable figures of Maria Callas, Beniamino Gigli, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Enrico Caruso, Kathleen Ferrier and Luciano Pavarotti - the world's greatest operatic names. He's flabbergasted--there's never been a greater orchestra or assemblage of musical talent and, it seems, he's playing in it! Suddenly the truth dawns upon him - he has died and gone to HEAVEN! Just as he realises this  the door opens and the conductor, baton in hand, enters and strides purposefully up to the podium; his chiselled visage stern with command, his silver hair gleaming as shafts of heavenly light stream down upon him from the beautiful stained glass windows . The great orchestra, and above them the angels, and the cherubim and seraphim floating over the assembled musicians, fall silent in expectation and reverence.  The conductor mounts the podium, looks around and then lifts his baton dramatically in readiness for the downbeat, his eyes piercing into the very souls of each and everyone of his players........and the musician, who cannot now contain himself any longer, turns to his seatmate and, stumbling to get the words out, whispers "Is that... is that...is that....... "  His seatmate puts his finger to his lips and whispers "Shhh...... No, my friend, it's not the maestro von Karajan, it's only God........it’s a very sad case. God just THINKS he's von Karajan. It is all he desires - he dresses up to look like him and the angels cut his hair in the same style as the maestro. It's all God ever dreams of, he practises day and night to be like the maestro. All God wants is to be as famous, as all powerful and as loved as the maestro!" 

And so over the glittering bridge to Salzburg and Mozart

So, looking back at that small, easily missed statue of this very great musician, we turned and set off across the bridge, the sun beating down upon us, as we passed a million metal locks shimmering in the August brightness. As we crossed the bridge I wondered what the sophisticated and petulant von Karajan might have thought of the cheap locks outside his front door and fastened to the bridge in this most classical and urbane of cities? From what I know of this brilliant but autocratic man I don't think he would have been impressed by the triviality of it all. But then again, I reflected, the maestro had spent his whole life conducting the music of the great operas and bringing to his adoring audiences the inevitable operatic tales of the gods and of great love stories and lost love so maybe he would have understood lovers' trysts without perhaps approving! How could you bring the great love arias such as those from Madame Butterfly, Turandot, Carmen, Norma, The Pearl Fishers,  La Traviata and a thousand others and at the same time bring tears to the eyes of millions of von Karajan's fans without having some romantic streak in you? Surely, I reasoned as we walked across that bridge, von Karajan would have understood - indeed, maybe he would have found a suitable piece of music to accompany the lovers as they made their promises and turned the key in the lock before casting it into the current!  With this thought in mind we continued on our way across the bridge, in front of us Salzburg – home not only to the great Herbert von Karajan but to another Austrian musical giant, perhaps even greater than von Karajan and a reason for our being there at all, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – a composer of whom it was once famously said “It is his music that is listened to by the angels in heaven as they go about their daily duties”. Our musical odyssey  had begun.