During one November night during World War II, when classical music occupied a more central place in American culture, the esteemed Bruno Walter was scheduled to be the guest conductor for the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. Walter was a giant in his field, and not just for his musical ability. In the 1920s, he had been among those singled out by Hitler, who railed against Jews conducting German orchestras.
Walter had escaped Europe, barely, in 1939 and settled in Southern California. In the autumn of 1943, while the D-Day invasion was still in its early planning stages, Walter, then in his sixties, was scheduled to conduct a challenging repertoire at the New York Philharmonic. He was ailing, however, and unable to take the stage. So his duties were given to a talented 25-year-old assistant conductor who had never rehearsed the program.
To observers, what happened that evening brought Wally Pipp to mind. He was the veteran New York Yankees first baseman who was given a day off 98 years ago today. Pipp's place in the lineup was taken by a strapping lefthander from Columbia University named Lou Gehrig, who merely played every game for the Yanks for the next 14 seasons.
It gave rise to a verb, to be "Pipped," which means to take a day off and lose your job forever. This isn't quite fair: Lou Gehrig was simply more talented than Wally Pipp. Also, it's simply inevitable that one generation gives way to the next, regardless of ability, which is what happened in New York City in 1943 in the field of classical music. Once again, a star was born.
Leonard Bernstein's debut would prove as momentous as the great Gehrig's. The concert was broadcast live to a national radio audience at a time when classical music still had a mass following in this country. It opened with Schuman's "Manfred" Overture, continued with Miklós Rózsa's Theme, Variations and Finale, and ended with Richard Strauss' "Don Quixote."
It was an electrifying performance, and those in attendance knew what they had witnessed. "A dramatic musical event," proclaimed the New York Times. "Triumphant," added The New Yorker. Newsweek pronounced it "a remarkable concert."
A later generation of Americans would associate Bernstein with his unforgettable narration of "Peter and the Wolf" -- a creative effort to expand the audience for the music he loved. But in the 1940s, when the wolf literally was at the door of the civilized world, Leonard Bernstein and his orchestra brought beauty into Americans' living rooms as a subtle reminder of why we were fighting.
As he became famous, Bernstein's liberal politics also became a conspicuous part of his public persona. Some of his political instincts and stances were noble; others have held up less well. When it came to his art, however, Leonard Bernstein's commitment was never in question.
"Life without music is unthinkable," he once said. "Music without life is academic. That is why my contact with music is a total embrace."
And that is our quote of the week.
Carl M. Cannon is the Washington bureau chief for RealClearPolitics. Reach him on Twitter @CarlCannon
