Most Appreciative Patron in Rice Paddies

In 1973, newly-hired Philadelphia Orchestra violinist Davyd Booth was called to sub for an ill colleague on a tour to China. This was not just any tour. It was the first ever American symphony tour in Communist China.

China, which had been closed off to the world since 1949, was not a very known entity—“like going to Mars,” Davyd said.(See post one.) 

Life in China was vastly different than anything they’d ever known. (See post two.)
The Philadelphia Orchestra landed in the midst of China’s Cultural Revolution. (See post three.)

The Orchestra carefully navigated potential pitfalls, but were stumped when Madame Mao asked the impossible. Would they play Beethoven's Sixth rather than symphony they had practiced and brought music for: the Fifth. (See post four.) The orchestra had not brought along musical scores other than that which they intended to play, and China officially did not have classical music. However, after a thorough search some scores materialized, and the orchestra gave a favorable performance. (See post five.)

They were surprised by the audience’s reaction, which seemed strained. (see post six.)

Despite the tepid public response, that '73 Tour is credited with igniting a fire of enthusiasm for classical music in China.

“One of the things that we hear about even to this day is that a lot of the concerts were broadcast, sometimes out into the workers fields," said Davyd.  It is legend that in one of these fields a young boy toiled in the rice paddies…and was so inspired by the music, he vowed to become a professional musician.

That boy--Tan Dun-- has since become one of the world’s greatest composers, creating the music for the Beijing Olympics, earning an Oscar for his score for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and currently acting as artistic director for the Philadelphia Orchestra.

Tan Dun receives Oscar, 2001

“So I mean you hear stories like that," said Davyd. "—Sometimes you think, 'Oh the China trip is real great. This is my job.'  And then you suddenly realize that the thing that you’re doing and the experience that you have can affect people so incredibly, strongly, deeply. In such a life-changing way.”

(To be continued. Next: China One of Biggest Markets for Classical.)

Response Hides Warmed Hearts

In 1973, newly-hired Philadelphia Orchestra violinist Davyd Booth was called to sub for an ill colleague on a tour to China. This was not just any tour. It was the first ever American symphony tour in Communist China.

China, which had been closed off to the world since 1949, was not a very known entity—“like going to Mars,” Davyd said.(See post one.) 

Life in China was vastly different than anything they’d ever known. (See post two.)
The Philadelphia Orchestra landed in the midst of China’s Cultural Revolution. (See post three.)

The Orchestra carefully navigated potential pitfalls, but were stumped when Madame Mao asked the impossible. Would they play Beethoven's Sixth rather than symphony they had practiced and brought music for: the Fifth. (See post four.) The orchestra had not brought along musical scores other than that which they intended to play, and China officially did not have classical music. However, after a thorough search some scores materialized, and the orchestra gave a favorable performance. (See post five.)

1973 Beijing Performance. (Courtesy of the Philadelphia Orchestra.)

Yet, the audience did not respond.

“Ormandy got really upset and almost had a meltdown in his dressing room because of the applause," recalled Davyd.

This applause—tepid and polite—could be attributed to the volatile history the people were living through.

“Everyone looked toward Mrs. Mao , and everybody’s reaction—it wasn’t that overwhelming …The Chinese in a way at that time weren’t sure how to react to American classical music, to western music.”
Still, that first concert warmed many hearts, including that of world-famous musician Tan Dun.

(To be continued. Next: Most Appreciative Patron in Rice Paddies.)

Searching China for Beethoven's Sixth

In 1973, newly-hired Philadelphia Orchestra violinist Davyd Booth was called to sub for an ill colleague on a tour to China. This was not just any tour. It was the first ever American symphony tour in Communist China.

China, which had been closed off to the world since 1949, was not a very known entity—“like going to Mars,” Davyd said.(See post one.) 

Life in China was vastly different than anything they’d ever known. (See post two.)
The Philadelphia Orchestra landed in the midst of China’s Cultural Revolution. (See post three.)

The Orchestra carefully navigated potential pitfalls, but were stumped when Madame Mao asked the impossible. Would they play Beethoven's Sixth rather than symphony they had practiced and brought music for: the Fifth. (See post four.) 

Maestro Ormandy agreed…if the music could be found. This was not an easy task, as China had banned classical music, and theoretically purged all such scores from the country. Still, after a thorough search, some handwritten scores materialized. There weren’t enough, weren’t focused scores for each musical instrument, and some notations were incorrect.

Ormandy: "I'll play the Sixth, if you can find the music."

Fortunately, the Philadelphia Orchestra had played the symphony before, and they were familiar enough with the piece to give a grand rendition.

So, they were confused by the audience’s response.

(To be continued. Next: Response Hides Warmed Hearts.)

Madame Mao Asks the Impossible

In 1973, newly-hired Philadelphia Orchestra violinist Davyd Booth was called to sub for an ill colleague on a tour to China. This was not just any tour. It was the first ever American symphony tour in Communist China.

China, which had been closed off to the world since 1949, was not a very known entity—“like going to Mars,” Davyd said.(See post one.) 

Life in China was vastly different than anything they’d ever known. (See post two.)
The Philadelphia Orchestra landed in the midst of China’s Cultural Revolution. (See post three.)

While the orchestra carefully navigated through potential cultural pitfalls--someone lost a passport, several succumbed to this strange liquor “maotai”—there was a big issue over the music. Madame Mao, who had previously limited acceptable music to the eight operas she had created, had an impossible request.

"Madame Mao" --Jiang Qing

“In ’73 Mao was still alive but he was not making public appearances. It was his wife Mrs. Mao (who was is in charge.) And she was a real tiny lady, but I gather she had incredible power. And everybody so kowtowed  to her, and everybody looked at her for her reactions to everything.

“We had one famous moment when we were scheduled to play Beethoven’s fifth symphony. Well it came down that she didn’t like that. She wanted the orchestra to play Beethoven’s sixth (Pastoral.)

“We didn’t have the music with us.”

(To be continued. Next: Searching China for Beethoven's Sixth.)

Landing on the Cultural Revolution

In 1973, newly-hired Philadelphia Orchestra violinist Davyd Booth was called to sub for an ill colleague on a tour to China. This was not just any tour. It was the first ever American symphony tour in Communist China.

China, which had been closed off to the world since 1949, was not a very known entity—“like going to Mars,” Davyd said.(See post one.) 

Life in China was vastly different than anything they’d ever known. (See post two.)

Little did Davyd and his colleagues realize it, but they were landing on the height of China’s Cultural Revolution. From1966-76 Chairman Mao led the Cultural Revolution to purge the country of old thinking. He demonized the rich, the intellectuals, and those exposed to the West, and he sent them into the countryside for “re-education.” Countless people died from torture, poor conditions, and suicide. 

As for music, Classical was banned. There were only eight model operas that Chinese were permitted to perform.

Davyd and the orchestra were instructed not to talk or mingle with the locals, and to always travel in groups of four or five.  This proved impossible.

“Anytime that we would go out, of course we would be surrounded by the Chinese people. Of course they were as interested in us as we were them.

 “One thing that I remember is that we had a couple of women in the orchestra who had blond hair. I don’t think the Chinese had ever seen blond hair. I’ll never forget –they would just come around to see the color of their hair. We were both witnessing such vastly different things from our culture and our lives at that point.”

(To be continued. Next: Madame Mao Asks Impossible.)