I read the book with interest. Then I listened to his recordings again, what a revelation.
Even before the 24/7 age of Twitter, Facebook, CNN, CNBC, cell phones, iPads, smart phones, emails, IMs, and all the rest, before there was an Internet, here was a man who insisted on taking enough time to sequester himself, to think, to study, do the job right. He often worked extensively with the string section of an orchestra on bowings, something many other conductors gave little thought to. But Giulini was himself a viola player. He knew how important these things were to get the "sound" he was after. Furthermore, he purposely limited his repertory to those works he could master. He purposely limited his time on stage to seven months per year so that he could spend the remaining five months studying, to be better.
His aim: music that touched the soul. He eschewed flash, dash, empty bombast, in favor of warmth, lyricism, humanity.
(I am made very aware, today, as I write this, that God truly is in the details, in any and every field of human endeavor. "Drink deep....." the saying goes...)
I had the unexpected fortune of meeting Maestro Giulini, on the street, outside Orchestra Hall, some 33 years ago.
I was looking in the display case of then-named Orchestra Hall one brilliant, freezing winter’s day (now it’s “Symphony Center”). On proud display: the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s brand new recording of the Mahler Ninth Symphony, Carlo Maria Giulini conducting. Such was the affection of the music world back then for him that the yellow-label DGG cover art was solely the patrician visage of Giulini himself, dressed for the elements in a striking fedora and dashing scarf.
Sensing a new presence to my left, I turned and there was the maestro himself, wearing the selfsame hat, and the very scarf, taking in his mirror image.
Making eye contact, I nodded and said something terribly profound like “Nice to see you, Maestro.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” the tall Italian chortled, delighted at the visual irony of the moment, extending his hand, which I shook. In those days, much was made, in the media, of his humanity and grace, vis-à-vis the motoric thrashing the high octane music director Solti gave his selections (make no mistake, we were and are big Solti fans, too). Giulini conveyed that in a few seconds, in a chance encounter.
A music god had come down to the pavement and there I was to meet him. Like Judy Tenuta used to say “it could happen.”
And it did.
Hats off to author Thomas D. Saler; highly recommended:
EXCERPTS
Tooley visited Giulini the day before Marcella was to undergo surgery to relieve pressure on her brain after the aneurysm. As he was leaving, Tooley told Giulini that he and Marcella would be in his thoughts and prayers. "John, thank you for that," Giulini replied, "but the world is full of suffering and there is no reason why Marcella and I should escape it." He then found a silver lining that could help others in the same position, noting that the surgeons could learn something from the operation. Marcella's illness brought the couple even closer..............p 134
Giulini extended his kindness even to strangers. Marsha Head, a London piano teacher, who had never met Giulini, sent the maestro a letter telling him how much his "exquisitely sensitive, meticulous and spiritual interpretation" of the Mozart Requiem with the Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus had moved her. That following Christmas, Head received a phone call from Italy. "It was Maestro Giulini, who had taken the time and trouble, despite his own important commitments, to find out my telephone number and speak to me at length on the subject of music, sensitivity and spirituality. I did not expect or ask for a reply (to my letter), especially from such an eminent conductor. I will always remember that deep conversation, his genuine interest in my music, and the kindness, sincerity, humility, and huge musical intellect of Giulini...." p 137
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