Ozawa thanks his 'other' fans -- Maestro performs free BSO concert for those left out.
By Geoff Edgers, Globe Staff, 4/21/2002
They started lining up outside Symphony Hall just after sunrise yesterday, with beach chairs and bagels, to say goodbye to Seiji Ozawa. There were students who couldn't afford a subscription, music fans unable to get a ticket for the sold-out evening show, and others who just wanted to accept the music director's ''thank you'' for 29 years of support.
Ozawa, the longest serving conductor in the history of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, is leaving to lead the Vienna State Opera. His replacement, James Levine, will arrive in 2004. The free Saturday morning concert fit the spirit of the Ozawa years, during which the BSO worked harder to reach people who fell outside its white, wealthy, and aging subscriber base. It also gave casual concertgoers like David Rossman a chance to see Ozawa one last time.
''He is as much a pillar of the Boston community as any of the sports stars or Teddy Kennedy,'' said Rossman, a law professor at Boston University. ''I think even people who don't like music find it fulfilling to be here and share in something like this.''
The preconcert line started at the Massachusetts Avenue entrance of Symphony Hall and snaked down Huntington Avenue. Marion Redonnet, 77, who wore an Ozawa T-shirt under her red sweater, waited near the front. She said she would miss the conductor and compared his cultural significance to that of former Red Sox player Ted Williams.
''I get that same emotional feeling when I think of them,'' she said. ''They were part of the city, maybe for different crowds, but they had the same pull.''
Just as the Splendid Splinter shied away from public shows of affection, Ozawa has tried to keep his distance from his long goodbye. In recent weeks, he has been toasted on cruises and in board rooms, with video tributes and State House proclamations. But Ozawa has said he finds it difficult emotionally to say goodbye and lead the symphony, so he has tried to stay focused on the music.
Tamako Takamatsu, a public relations representative from Tokyo-based Columbia Artists Management, was at Symphony Hall trying to help a pair of Japanese camera crews arrange interviews with Ozawa. But the press was not getting much face time with the maestro.
''Ozawa just couldn't give me a definite answer,'' Takamatsu said. ''He told me he couldn't focus on interviews right now. He's so emotional about leaving Boston, it's killing him, really.''
Ozawa spent the morning at his home in Newton. Wearing a shiny Red Sox team jacket, he arrived at Symphony Hall 20 minutes before showtime with his wife, Vera, and daughter, Seira.
''He's not sleeping much,'' said Seira Ozawa, 30. ''He told me that going to baseball games has saved him the last few weeks.''
She said her father has been struggling to deal with his emotions over the last few days. At a recent board meeting, he broke down in tears, she said.
The mood at Symphony Hall was designed to be more festive than somber. The BSO, which has been playing Mahler's intense Symphony No. 9 for the paid subscription concerts, instead performed Hector Berlioz's ''Symphony Fantastique.'' The program was hosted by former Boston Pops conductor John Williams. The audience, decidedly dressed down from a night at the Symphony, filled all but a few rows in the balcony.
As 11 a.m. arrived, Ozawa waited in a hallway. He took a sip from a cup of jasmine tea and, when the lights went down in Symphony Hall, quietly slipped into a back row next to his wife and daughter. He leaned on an armrest on the aisle as the crowd watched a film detailing his unlikely rise from his birth in China to his taking over one of the most famous symphonies in the world. There was laughter as clips showed Ozawa playing softball and tennis, and consuming a hot dog at a Patriots game.
Just as cellist Owen Young described him as ''extremely cool'' on the film, Ozawa slipped out of the hall and went backstage. He emerged in a midnight blue suit designed by his wife. And Ozawa conducted as he always has, a trim figure whose feet dance across the podium. Ozawa, who no longer holds a baton, arched his back as he rose to the tips of his toes. With a squeeze of his thumb, he fired a shot with his left hand to signal his flute players. He punctuated other moments by punching the sky.
When the Berlioz ended, Ozawa looked up to the balcony to his left at his family and jogged off to the applause. After 10 minutes of cheering, the crowd quieted down when Ozawa picked up a microphone to offer thanks. He then launched the Symphony into ''Stars and Stripes Forever,'' a Pops staple that was not on the program. At the finale, a flag unfurled and balloons dropped from the ceiling.
As the crowd stood and cheered, Ozawa grabbed a blue balloon that had drifted onto the stage. As he headed to the dressing room, he still had the balloon in his hand as a souvenir.