I've finished two books that provide even-handed and unvarnished portraits
of two giants of classical music:  Bruno Walter and Arturo Toscanini.  The
former is a rigorous account of Walter's odyssey between the old and new
worlds, written by Erik Ryding and Rebecca Pechefsky, published by the
Yale University Press and appropriately entitled, "Bruno Walter--A World
Elsewhere." The second is "The Letters of Arturo Toscanini," edited by
Harvey Sachs and published by Knopf.

Sachs, the author of an earlier Toscanini biography in 1978, regretted
at the time that there were few letters and personal items to draw on for
primary source materials.  To his surprise, shortly after the appearance of
his book, bundles of letters began appearing at various auctions; and he
hit the proverbial jackpot in 1995, when close to 1,000 letters from the
Maestro to one Ada Mainardi, were auctioned in Berlin.  These documents
trace a torrid affair between the married Maestro and the wife of one his
Italian colleagues against the backdrop of musical milestones and seismic
political shifts on three continents.  Other correspondence between
Toscanini and NBC officials, the Italian government, and members of
his own family (remember that Horowitz was a son-in law) illustrate his
strong beliefs about everything from anti-Fascism to contemporary music
and preening competitors ("Stokowski--that clown").  Stepping back from
some of the more explicitly libidinous episodes, the reader can gain an
appreciation of a volatile figure, consumed by self-doubt and insecurity,
yet absolute in his convictions about composers, performance styles, and
politics.  Interesting, too, is Toscanini's loyalty and generosity, quietly
aiding needy musicians trapped by the World War II, actively promoting the
careers of William Steinberg and Guido Cantelli, and staying in touch with
Maestro Walter for most of the century, despite their differences in
upbringing and artistic approach.

Indeed, a dramatic event covered in both works is the murder-suicide
of Walter's daughter and her husband.  It was Toscanini's daughter
who broke the news to Walter, and it was Toscanini who accompanied his
stricken colleague through the otherwise private funeral and memorial.  A
consistent theme of the Walter work is the sense of wandering, renewal and
reinvention--being turned out by the Nazis from Germany, then Austria, in
the 1930s, returning to the podium after the death of his daughter, then
his years in the U.S., first in New York, and, finally, his "Indian Summer"
of stereo recordings with the hand-picked Columbia Symphony in Los Angeles.
And his affair with soprano Delia Reinhardt, along with other flirtations,
are included as well.  In fact, one of Toscanini's letters notes that
Walter looks particularly cheerful during his New York stay because his
wife is not along with him on the trip.

While the sober, fact-filled and thoroughly footnoted Walter volume
earns a "PG" for its discretion in handling his personal life, the Sachs
collection of Toscanini correspondence veers much more closely to the adult
"R." Some reviewers, including John Rockwell in the June 14 New York Times,
believe this book crosses the threshold inappropriately, "into the artist's
bedroom." But the fact remains:  Toscanini was a passionate, combustible
personality, and these thoughts--in his own hand--reveal much more of the
mortal behind the legend.

I'd recommend both books to lovers of classical music, especially those
listeners fascinated by the convergence of art and life.  But I'd keep the
Toscanini letters out of the reach of the kids for a while longer.

Dick Claeys