Minnesota Orchestra, it’s Time for the Arne Carlson Concerto (An Open Letter)

Dear Minnesota Orchestra:

Love you. Love your music. Hate your money handlers.

You know what I mean, I know you do. I’m talking about the bean counters. The gray suits. The wealthy, constipated benefactors turned money managers. The “responsible stewards” who were supposed to take care of business so you could devote your time and energy into making all that sheet music come alive for ears worldwide.

You know, the wealthy ones who never liked or appreciated the concept of unions -- especially the Musician’s Union to which you belong.

Yeah, those guys. They’re the ones controlling the money. Your money. (Our money.) They’re the ones who are currently screwing you and trying to bring about your artistic demise. If they get their way, the orchestra will have fewer musicians and no permanent conductor.

Are you listening, Osmo Vanska? You played right into management’s hands by threatening to resign at the end of April. The suits want you to resign. They’re counting on it. Fewer bodies in the orchestra would mean fewer paychecks and more money for management. That’s what it’s all about: THE MONEY.

Let’s face the awful truth. It’s all about getting and keeping more money for management through union busting. Your union. And union busting with a lorgnette instead of a billy club is still union busting. Your biggest problem is that you like and admire the very people who are trying to destroy you! You seem to trust these busters because they’re a “better class of people” -- well-educated, well-dressed, sophisticated. The kind of music lovers you’d love to have a glass of wine with after a performance. Well, that’s really lovely. But these people are not friends of the Minnesota Orchestra.

They’re only pretending to be on your side. I don’t care if they’re dressed up in swallowtails or ermines and pearls, they’re still union busters. They still put the financial interests of management above your salaries and your life’s work. They’re not nice people.

Think back to last October, 2012. After working so hard to perfect the sound that made you an award-winning orchestral force to be reckoned with, you got completely invalidated by management. You were coolly informed you had to take a whopping 32 per cent cut in salary. How much of a cut would they have demanded if your musicianship had really sucked? Or if those rave reviews had really been lousy ones?

Then, while you were still reeling from the shock of that unexpected pay cut, management expected you to immediately make a counter offer. When you didn’t, you got “locked-out.” Remember?

Funny, I now know exactly what the average yearly salary of a musician in the orchestra is. I even know about your health and benefit packages. That information always gets “mysteriously” leaked to the media whenever there’s a strike - or “lockout.” But nobody ever knows what the management team earns. Why? Why this conspicuous double standard?

Here’s an even more pertinent question for you. Why do so many arts organizations entrust their creative lives and futures to these non-creative gray suits? The obvious answer is MONEY. But that answer implies that these money handlers will help get THE MONEY out to the artists who have created and fueled these organizations. That usually doesn’t happen.

What happens instead is a clumsy divertimento that involves control. Not at first, though. At the beginning, it’s always cordial.

At first, private donors and major corporations start giving money to said arts organization. The benefactors get a nice tax write-off; the arts organization gets money to stay afloat. The organization uses this money to pay employees, remodel stage or workspace, expand current repertoire. The benefactors bask in their status as patrons of the arts. All is well in this nice, symbiotic relationship.

Then the arts organization becomes so successful that THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS comes into being. Not only does such a board lend prestige to the arts organization, it also gives it a special non-profit status. For the artists, The Board means business will be taken care of so more time and energy can be devoted to the artistic endeavor. To The Board Members, however, The Board means their control will be exerted over the organization. Therein lies the conflict: creativity vs. control.

Pretty soon, The Board begins to enable donors and management alike to control (indirectly and directly) the arts and the artists.

Over the years I’ve seen this familiar struggle between creatives and non-creatives play out in various artistic venues. No, I haven’t witnessed anything at your rehearsals. No, I haven’t intercepted any e-mails, but I can tell you exactly what’s been going on at Orchestra Hall. The people who couldn’t find middle C on a piano if their lives depended on it are trying to tell you, the musicians, what to do.

Their directive usually begins as a comical memo:
A little less Sibelius, a little more Tchaikovsky, please.

Then it shifts to a slightly irked question:
Why do you have to keep playing so much Samuel Barber?

Finally, it turns into a no-nonsense demand:
STOP WITH THE REQUIEMS -- TOO DEPRESSING!

They think because they’re “financing” the orchestra, they know all about music. But they don’t. They hear sounds, but they’re incapable of listening to music. They don’t get it. It all sounds the same to them, like organized noise. Because their money is involved, though, they think they have the right to tell the orchestra what to do. But they don’t. They don’t have any right to tell you how to play a nocturne, just as they don’t have any right to define how much your musical expertise is worth. They think they have a right to do these things, but they don’t.

Unfortunately for you, they’re the ones in charge. They’re the ones who issued the ultimatum and locked you out. So what do you do?

You send for a qualified mediator who can find a balance between creativity and control. You get a guy who can think inside and outside the box. Someone who’s good at math but also at understanding how numbers can translate into everyday tangibilities.

Sounds like a job for Arne Carlson. He’s qualified. He’ll do it pro bono. And he cares about the culture and well-being of people in this state.

That’s why you need to enlist the aid of ex-Governor Arne Carlson in your negotiations. As former state auditor, he knows how money works and how to make it work for Minnesotans. He knows the difference between accurate calculations and fuzzy math. He would be able to sift through these financial projections and decipher what the numbers would personally mean to you, the musicians in the Minnesota Orchestra.

If something isn’t done soon, the somber strains from “Peer Gynt” are going to be your leitmotif -- the sad soundtrack of your lives, really -- as your orchestra and Minnesota’s orchestra slowly dies.

You many not remember this, but I vividly recall the time when the Minnesota Orchestra was OUR orchestra. It happened in the early 70’s, when the newly constructed Orchestra Hall made headlines. It took place when the local media kept informing residents that the Minneapolis Symphony had morphed into the Minnesota Orchestra because the music was for the entire state. Not just for one city in the state but for all the cities in Minnesota.  Music for everyone...what a concept!

By the time Maestro Stanislaw Skrowaczewski finally took the podium in the new hall that featured giant toy blocks trapped in the wall (“for acoustics” we were told), we actually believed the hype.

We really believed it was OUR orchestra, not THEIRS. The Minnesota Orchestra wasn’t just for a handful of elitist snobs who wanted to control everything new and cultural. It was an Orchestra for everybody in the state of Minnesota. When the state legislature saw fit to give money to OUR orchestra, we didn’t complain, either. We believed. We still do.

As the years flew by and the other conductors came and went, we were seldom disappointed. Let’s keep it that way.

Best wishes for good music,
Another Music Lover in MN.