When I wrote of Erich Kunzel in the wake of PBS' broadcast of A Capitol Fourth that “next year’s show wouldn’t be the same without its most reliable sparkler“ I was rather hoping that, at worst, he might not feel well enough next year to take up the baton. After all, at the Fourth of July rehearsal concert I attended, Kunzel bantered with Big Bird in his usual high spirits, but sat when he could, something I’ve never seen him do in thirty-two years of growing up with him as the maestro of my hometown’s Pops. I’ve since learned that he was in agonizing pain for the duration.
He died this past week, just a few weeks after conducting his final concert in the city where he founded one of the most formidable Pops orchestras on the planet. “Hey, I made it!” he said to the cheering crowds, but one of the musicians later reported that he conducted in tears. He knew. A memorial concert is planned in Cincinnati next month, using music Kunzel pre-selected. He knew.
I raise this topic in a column about television not because Kunzel started in so many Cincinnati Pops and National Symphony Orchestra specials, but because he embraced what television is all about: Making entertainment available to the masses.
The almost paradoxical idea of spreading musical appreciation didn’t daunt Kunzel. He employed indoor fireworks, costumed characters, and Christmas trees which rose from beneath the stage. For an MTV era, he was well aware that strings and brass simply weren’t enough for some viewers. He wanted to make music a visual medium.
He knew.
And now Kunzel leaves behind not only his specials and hundreds of recordings, but his protégé, Keith Lockhart, now the conductor of the Boston Pops. Young Mr. Lockhart learned well from the master; while touring with his own orchestra recently, he wasn’t above unfurling an enormous American flag from the ceiling of the hall at a particularly patriotic moment.
Erich Kunzel began in an opera pit, toured the globe, and ended in a little amphitheatre by the river in the city he made to sing. He could have made his last concert anywhere, with any selections, but Kunzel chose to stick to the orchestra’s usual schedule—this was about the music, not him. He knew.
