Serenade in London

At rehearsal, the musicians of London's Royal Philharmonic Orchestra gaped at the unwonted spectacle of their crustaceous conductor, Sir Thomas Beecham, taking advice and instruction. His adviser, standing next to the podium, was a stumpy, balding little old man in a frayed brown suit. Once, when the little man whispered in Beecham's ear, the conductor stopped, said: "We are reminded that by this time in the work Don Quixote is sadder but wiser."

Next night, when the same little old man entered the royal box in London's Drury Lane Theater, he was dressed in evening clothes. The audience rose to its feet and thunderously applauded. Up in his box, his watery blue eyes more liquid than usual, the great composer, 83-year-old Richard Strauss, bowed jerkily, first to the orchestra, then to the audience. Then he listened with half-parted lips to his music as played by the well-instructed Sir Thomas.

Once, in his excitement after a brilliant violin solo, the old man interrupted the music of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme suite to clap. Conductor Beecham threw a silencing glance over his shoulder and Composer Strauss looked around apologetically. When the concert was over, the crowds stood applauding while Octogenarian Strauss climbed slowly "down the stairs to the stage. He bowed and croaked "Merci! merci!"

Rich & Broke. It was eleven years since the composer of Der Rosenkavalier and Salome had visited England. During that time his fame had increased as his fortunes had gone down. He still looked fit and florid, but Richard Strauss was broke. Though his operas and orchestral suites were frequently played throughout Europe and the U.S., he had received none of the benefits. At war's end, the Allies impounded his sizable royalties-(estimated at $460,000 from British and U.S. performances alone) for reparations.

Until he quarreled with his country's masters, Strauss was a servant of the Nazis. Because he is old and they are proud of him, the Germans have dropped all denazification proceedings against him. His works are frequently played in Germany now, and his past errors generally forgiven. Since the war, he has lived in privacy in small Swiss resorts, occasionally working at music. His only income, about $1,000 a year, has come from royalties on Swiss and Swedish performances of his works.

Gratitude from a Waitress. Last May, invited to conduct the London Philharmonic for one concert, he replied that one concert would not be worth his while. Britain was poor, but not too poor to help. Last week's concert was the first of six in a Strauss festival: two he will conduct himself; the others will be given in his honor. Wealthy Sir Thomas (Beecham Pills) and the BBC chipped in with extra concerts. From a waitress came a ten-shilling postal order "because I come from a musical family." The British Treasury promised to "consider favorably" a proposal that Strauss be allowed to take $4,000 in Britain's precious sterling out of the country. Said Richard Strauss, ex-rich man: "It is destiny. Who knows, Schubert and Mozart might have lived longer if they had more money--but I don't want to give the impression that I complain."

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