REHEARSING WITH SIR HENRY

New Zealand Listener, Volume 10, Issue 249, 31 March 1944, Page 11

REHEARSING WITH

SIR HENRY

A Conductor With A Mania For Punctuality

HIS month, Sir Henry J. Wood, conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra, is 75 years old. At that age anybody might be excused for being late for an appointment, but Sir Henry has only once been late for rehearsal in all his 48 years of conducting Proms. He SE

arrives on the tick of 9.45 a.m, Anyone coming into a concert hall set ready for a rehearsal could, by the presence of four objects, identify H.J.W. as the cgnductor. Namely: two tuning forks (one for strings, one for woodwind), a typewritten notice with the exact time he is going to spend on each piece, and a ponderous Waterbury watch which marks out its owner’s life, down to the very seconds. After going round the orchestra, whanging his tuning-forks with a hammer, and cocking his ear, Sir Henry arrives back at the rostrum and lifts his stick, ready to begin as the church clock chimes 10. Then follows three hours of intense, and exacting rehearsal, by the end of which all nerves are frayed except the conductor’s. His nervous energy is enormous; he rarely loses his temper. No programme is carried out to more perfect timing. Not a moment is lost, not a minute unaccounted for. When composers are anxious to conduct their own works, Sir Henry is usually agreeable; but since these guest-conductors almost always overstep their time-limit, they end up by hearing something like this: "All these composers are the same! They all want extra time! I don’t know how | I’m going to get through. One hour to rehearse 95 minutes’ music and two arias! My part of the concert, of course, | doesn’t matter!"

Attention to Detail Sir Henry’s mania for punctuality is the result of having to cope with an incredible amount of work. The reason why rehearsals are up to the minute is that nothing is overlooked which can be done beforehand. He bows all the string parts, arranges the seating and checks the copies for mistakes, every score being signed "Corrected — Henry J. Wood" at the top, and scattered through with blue pencil reminders. He may not rehearse the whole of the evening’s programme if it is a Promenade, but never fails to make sure of a Symphony Concert. Paradoxically, the orchestra is puzzled sometimes to know why he will go through regular items which they know well, and leaves a really tricky, new work | till actual performance. But the players never feel any anxiety. They claim that his baton is the most helpful that has ever directed them. The tip of his white painted stick controls every note with a precision and supple expressiveness that no one can misunderstand. With his left hand he brings in the instruments, and never is an entry bungled twice. If, as often happens, he breaks his stick on the open lid of the piano, he mutters: "There you are, another ten-and-six gone!" and reaches for an ever-ready spare from the score cabinet beside him. He has never been known to break the second stick. , When he wants a thunderous passage, Sir Henry says: "I don’t want any of your cosy ff’s-I want a great sound... Don’t be nervous-I’m never nervous! Rip it out and make the old ladies jump!"