But of the San Francisco Symphony— there's nothing remotely comparable, only its commercially released individual CDs. The wonderful recordings and broadcasts made under Pierre Monteux' direction, even the old 78s conducted by Alfred Hertz cry out for re-issuing, but the Symphony's spokesperson said only that the question of the association producing its own records does come up for consideration. That's consistent with the diffident attitude towards its past taken by this extraordinarily well-financed and secure public institution.

The only institutional "history" of the orchestra appeared in 1986, in a 59-page monograph by the late William Huck, "The San Francisco Symphony: Seventy-five Years of Music, An Annotated Chronology, 1909-1986." That was an issue of Encore, a quarterly generated and produced by The Archives For The Performing Arts (subsequently, The Performing Arts Library and Museum or PALM). The primary support for that volume came from the California Arts Council, the NEA, and the San Francisco Foundation, and though the Symphony was listed with them, its contribution was minor, mostly in-kind.

David Schneider, a violinist in the orchestra for 50 years, wrote a good history, the only interpretive one, "The San Francisco Symphony: Music, Maestros and Musicians" (Presidio Press, 1983). It was an independent project, and remarkable, considering the state of the Symphony's records.

The San Francisco Symphony does not even maintain its archives, merely warehouses its records off-site. A small part of its material, just the public relations or press office materials, is on semi-permanent loan to PALM, which maintains this part of the record, press clippings, press releases and the like, filing it properly for reference access, answering inquiries. The Symphony pays a modest $6000 annually for this service, for which it paid $1000 to $1500 until a few years ago.

In contrast, the New York Philharmonic's Archives are professionally maintained by staff curators in its own impressive repository in Lincoln Center. On a recent visit there, I was shown around these facilities, its storage, the main room where visitors could do reasearch work comfortably. The holdings, handsomely organized, go back to the orchestra's founding year, 1842, and include such valuable material as the scores that Dvorak and Mahler used, with their markings. This operation is a part of the Philharmonic's regular budget, a line item of perhaps $200,000 or more, not something either dependent on grants or used as bait to win that additional support.

All of the top five major orchestras now maintain their own archives and as line items in their operating budgets. The Cleveland Orchestra's is the oldest, established in 1982 in connection with the celebration of the 50th anniversary in that year of its Severance Hall.

The San Francisco Symphony clearly does not see its history as part of its regular operation, doesn't feel an obligation to a great tradition, to whatever extent it believes in its own "great tradition." Anyone undertaking a thorough book on the San Francisco Symphony would face a mountain of work just getting to and sorting the source material before actually being able to go through it. Clearly the Symphony is not about to make it easy for a publisher to initiate such a book.

To give an idea of the obstacles, several years ago, wanting to do an oral history on Joseph Scafidi, member of the symphony's staff from 1939 to 1978 (executive director from 1974 to 1978), I asked his successor, Peter Pastreich, if I might peruse the board minutes and other records for some of those years. He would have to get the board's permission, he informed me, but that never happened. Too much trouble, I guess. I dropped the project.

What's behind such a policy? It's not simply inertia, and it certainly isn't the money, although that excuse was offered. This orchestra is one of the most securely positioned, with an endowment of something between $137 and $140 million and big six-figure grants from every direction factoring into its annual income, including the annual Hotel Tax Fund.

The only likely explanation is that the administration and board officers are fixed only on the here and now and the immediate tomorrow. It's all about marketing and promotion of the current activities, sell, sell, sell. The only music director before Michael Tilson Thomas who seems to be remembered, is his immediate predecessor, Herbert Blomstedt, brought back each season to conduct a few programs, mostly of his favorite repertory. Tilson Thomas produces a festival of American music that he deems important from the country's history but little that reflects what this orchestra has actually introduced and notably performed.

Peter Pastreich, executive director, 1978--1998, had no interest in the preservation of the orchestra's past let alone the celebration of it. When the Association President, Nancy Bechtle, was asked if the Association might make an effort towards preserving its Archives properly, she simply deferred to Pastreich, and that was that. A million or two to show off the orchestra and its music director in Europe on grand tours-- that's no problem. But one-tenth of that to preserve and honor the achievements of the musicians and conductors of a distinguished past, and for that matter, the board members and patrons who helped make that possible-- forget it. There's no indication that Pastreich's successor, Brent Assink, views the matter any differently.

No matter how prosperous, how successful the Symphony gets, it seems only concerned with pushing ahead. Ambition. Personal ambition. The big business mentality applied to the symphonic enterprise. Can't get more American than that. Yet perhaps some day, some folks on the board, a symphony president, maybe even some of the musicians beginning to face retirement will think, "Will anyone remember what we did?" Funny that thought hasn't occurred earlier than this.

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