In 1988 I was invited to the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s summer residence at Tanglewood, in the Berkshire hills near Stockbridge and Lenox in Massachusetts. It is roughly equidistant to both New York City and Boston, so from the late 19th Century the area had been a popular summer destination for the wealthy of both cities. Dozens of enormous summer homes (which their owners insisted on calling “cottages”) were built, and the gilded elite lived and socialised there for a couple of months a year.

In the 1930s some powerful ladies organised music festivals and invited the New York and Boston orchestras to come and play in large tents. In 1937 an estate overlooking the Stockbridge Bowl, and its beautiful lake, was donated to make a permanent home for the Festival, and by 1938 a huge semi-outdoor concert hall (“The Shed”) was built to hold an audience of 5000. Adjoining properties were added, a theatre was built, and the grounds and lawns beautified. It became the regular summer home of the Boston Symphony, and in 1940 the Music Director Serge Koussevitsky started a Summer School for instrumental, singing and conducting students. Among these first students were Leonard Bernstein who became intensely involved with it.

Major concerts are given each Friday and Saturday evening and on Sunday afternoon. Often the BSO was reviving works from the winter season and so each concert was allowed only one rehearsal before the day.  I was there to make my debut, and the management expected a “Norrington makeover” with far, far less rehearsal than I was used to. At first I thought to refuse the offer, but was eventually persuaded to take the risk. I am so glad I did, because 12 wonderful seasons followed in that lovely place.

Kay and I were driven from Boston and given a car and a little old house nearby. The orchestra were friendly and picked up my ideas well. “How we do like a cute English accent”.  Haydn 49, Mozart Clarinet Concerto and Beethoven 2 was the programme I think, and a review next day claimed that over night the orchestra sounded more like the London Classical Players than themselves. Quite a surprise.

Apart from regular appearances with the BSO I was asked to teach sessions with the young conductors. At that date few of them seemed very interested in Historical Performance Practice, but I certainly made them think and question a bit. In following years I also regularly gave concerts in the theatre on the opposite side of the lawn, with the student Music Centre Orchestra, who were extremely talented. On one occasion I was privileged to conduct the first Bernstein Memorial Concert (including Brahms 1). Lenny had died the year before; his whole family came up for the concert, and we enjoyed meeting them at a party afterwards. I was sorry to have missed meeting he famous maestro in person. I had seen him  conduct in London, and although I did not really approve of his exaggerated style, he was clearly a gigantic figure on the music scene.

We stayed in various different houses over the 10 Tanglewood years: Koussevitsky’s, Bernstein’s, an old farm with a fine pool,- all very agreeable.  My guide and counsellor was the new Artistic Advisor, Evans Mirageas. Soon he was asking me to conduct concerts in Boston in the main season. We planned programmes for there and for Tanglewood, and became firm friends. We asked him to be our son Tom’s Ungodly Father, and he later looked after my dates with other orchestras in the USA.

One summer  when I was home he rang me to say someone had cancelled and could I be there in a few day’s time replace him? The only way it would fit was flying Concorde,- both ways. The lovely BSO Italian driver Peppino met me in New York in the big sedan, and took me back again a few days later. I guess that’s the sort of money available at Tanglewood; they make several million dollars each summer from 10 weeks of 15,000-strong audiences a night. Peppino was a great joy to us, and we saw a lot of him and his family. I liked to speak Italian with him. As he delivered me to the Conductor’s room for a concert he used to say”Fa tremare Tanglewood Maestro” (“Make Tanglewood tremble Maestro”).

In all I gave 38 concerts with the Boston Symphony, either in town or at Tanglewood, including some large-scale pieces like Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis, Vaughan Williams’ Sea Symphony, and Walton’s Belshazzar. I also gave invited concerts in Tanglewood with the London Classical Players and the Orchestra of St Lukes in the Shed, and with the Salzburg Camerata in the new smaller concert hall.

Music Director Seiji Ozawa, a wizard technician, seemed quite welcoming in the early years. He allowed my historic seating because it was so extreme; (he did not normally allow even Bernstein smaller changes). But, after many years at the helm, he wasn’t at all doing his bit at Tanglewood. He was supposed to be a presence, a teacher and encourager, and conductor for the whole Festival period. Instead  he conducted for a couple of weeks, ad then flew back to Japan, leaving everything to others.

One year however he developed ear trouble and couldn’t fly for several weeks. He spent the time moping about, seeing what happened when he was normally away. In my case that meant concerts with both orchestras, teaching young conductors, giving master classes in Mozart for singers, even conducting the Junior Orchestra, and being generally available for advice and encouragement. A typical place would be the outdoor canteen where, over lunch or supper, the young would gather round for plenty of discussion.

Apparently Seiji hit the roof. I suppose he saw what he should have been doing himself, and felt guilty about it. Instead he took it out on other people. He fired the Music School Director and the School Music Advisor, and made poor Evans fly over to tell me to forget my contract for the next year. I believe he had to give similar news to Simon Rattle and to Bernard Haitink. Of course Seiji had been getting very poor reviews for his concerts in Boston, and Bernard and I very good ones; that can’t have helped. Within months Evans Mirageas too had been fired. A better Artistic Advisor could not have been found, but that was good luck for Decca, who picked him up at once. My association went on hold for six years, until Seiji left,- not before time. A sad end to a rich experience.