memphis symphony orchestra_case study

8/2/2019 Memphis Symphony Orchestra_Case Study

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1 | G i l m o r e - C a s e S t u d y

Opus One:

A Case Study of Innovative Organization in the Memphis Symphony Orchestra

Barry Gilmore

Part One: The Background and Development of Opus One

In May 2009, the concertmaster of the Memphis Symphony Orchestra, Susanna Perry Gilmore,

had just finished lunch with another musician when she was struck by an idea. Throughout the meal,

Gilmore and her colleague had discussed the dire financial straits in which the MSO found itself at the

end of the season, the recent announcement of a major reduction in staff, and a plan to reduce the

number of concerts for the next season. The idea was, in one sense, fledgling and undeveloped, but in

another it encompassed a broad vision from its first moments. Gilmore conceived of a new series for

the symphony with a new set of parametersa series of unconducted performances of great works of

art which would take place in the round, with the audience surrounding and close to the musicians, and

which would occur in unusual venues around the city. Moreover, the series would be run entirely by

musicians, from design to marketing to production, and would be targeted at a new crowd of concert-

goers, the twenty to forty year-old demographic that orchestras have trouble attracting. And, finally,

the concerts would include not just great symphonic works but also reception-like second halves in

which various musicians would showcase their other talents with performances of big band music,

bluegrass, or experimental string ensemble arrangements. Gilmores idea even came with a ready title:

Opus One.


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Gilmore attributes her brainchild partly to the immediate necessity to fill in gaps in the

performance schedule and partly to a larger environmental issue affecting the organization:

We certainly werent in a position to expect the staff to go out and hustle more work, when they

were already overwhelmedit was a moment of, well, heres how we can solve all of these

problems and not expect the staff to do more, to figure out how to do it ourselves. And all

wrapped up in that was, How do we change? How do we change our image in the

community?

It took little time for the idea to spread; within two weeks, it had been presented to several musicians,

board members, and staff, and many of those were on board and excited. Within a month, initial

funding had been secured and it looked certain that the initial Opus One concerts would take place the

following year.

What took longer to settle was the fallout of an idea that meant a radical shift for the

organization at several levels. The relationship of the musicians to one another, to the staff, to the

public, and even to the music were all subject to challenge and alteration as Opus One sped forward. In

the end, an idea which to Gilmore had seemed relatively simple, if unorthodox, turned out to threaten a

fundamental reshaping for the Memphis Symphony.

The Organizational Context

1. Changes in the Overall Environment

The MSOs fifty-seven year history has been marked by relatively little change. In that time, only

three conductors and three concertmastersan average tenure of nineteen years for each position


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have served the orchestra (Gilmore, the third concertmaster, has been with the symphony for thirteen

years). Since 1983, the orchestra has employed a full-time core of over thirty musicians and a per-

service cohort of another thirty-five or so musicians, with nearly twenty staff members supporting the

artists.

Yet in 2003, when Ryan Fleur became the orchestras president and CEO, constituents of all

types had begun to worry seriously about the orchestras future. Specific circumstances were partly to

blame. The symphony performed without a permanent hall for over six years while the city constructed

a new performing arts center, and at the end of that time the audience base had dwindled, revenues

had dropped significantly, and the community perception was largely of an outdated and irrelevant

organization. Worse still, in a city with a history of deep racial tension, the MSO relied on a traditional

audience made up of white, educated, wealthy, and elderly patrons, and that population, particularly as

a concert-going group, was shrinking. In that sense, the MSO found itself in the same position as many

arts organizations around the country; a National Endowment for the Arts 2008 survey, for instance,

determined that classical music concert attendance declined by 29% from 1982 to 2008, with the

steepest drop (20%) coming in the last six years (p. 3). During the same period of time, the average age

of concert-goers went up by nine years (to 49 years old) and the number of 18-24 year-olds attending

classical concerts dropped by 37%.

Ryan Fleur sees this shrinking audience as a driving force behind innovation in symphony

programming:

What this really is is a creative solution to something that, as we all know, is industry-wide. The

institution of orchestras as theyve been built has been built around three things: making great

music, selling tickets, and raising money. I call this the Philadelphia Orchestra 1975 model. We

did a really good job of this for a while; it was a very narrow slice of the population that came to

concerts. Now you still serve that population plus a bunch of othersso we have to connect in a


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different way. The product has to be different. Part of what we do has to be what weve always

done, but there has to be a menu of other things that helps to create a new business model.

Opus One was not the first innovation brought about by a new take on the larger environment. Under

Fleurs oversight and with participation from musicians, the symphony also initiated a collaborative

relationship with the Soulsville Charter School and a partnership with a Fortune-100 company that

resulted in a portable leadership seminar titled Leading from Every Chair. In each of these cases, a small

group of musicians was integral to planning and product, though staff continued to fill most traditional

support roles.

2. Recent Shifts: The 2008-2009 Crisis

The MSO performs for thirty-nine weeks each year (in June, July, and August, all musicians

except for the concertmaster are effectively laid off; many file for unemployment during this period).

The 2008-2009 season was the last for Music Director/conductor David Loebel, who joined the MSO in

1998; the initial stages of a conductor search, which would see an actual hire for the position until the

2010-2011 season, had begun. In the fall of 2008, as a short list of candidates formed, Ryan Fleur called

together a few key musicians, including the concertmaster, and informed them of another crisis. In the

economic downturn facing the entire nation, the MSOs endowment had lost over 50% of its worth, a

cut of almost three million dollars.

The ramifications of such a loss startled the musicians. Real questions about the ability of the

organization to survive at all had to be addressed, and at the very least it seemed certain that the next

season, a pivotal one in which a short list of Music Director candidates would be flown to Memphis for

performance-based tryouts, would see a reduction in staff, salaries, actual performances, and possibly

even musical personnel. Fleur discussed with the musicians the likelihood that whole weeks of the


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season would remain empty; as he later said, The reality is that sometimes its just cheaper not to play

at all. For core musicians this would mean sitting idle, while for per-service musicians it could mean a

significant loss of income.

By the end of the season, all of the musicians knew the financial situation. The support staff was

reduced from 18 to 12, several weeks of the next season remained unscheduled, and the end result of a

difficult contract negotiation had resulted in a 5% pay cut for most musicians. Morale plummeted.

At the same time, there were glimmers of vitality in the organization. Leading From Every Chair

and the Soulsville Charter School affiliation showed real signs of success, largely thanks to the

investment of time and energy from musicians. In light of these developments, management and the

musicians (along with union representation) agreed to a new type of contract, one which included a

capacity-building clause in which musicians could be paid for non-musical services at the same rate

they were paid for rehearsals and concerts. This opt-in portion of the master agreement meant that

core musicians could choose from a variety of projects and could be compensated for their work in

those areas.

Another sign of strength soon came to light: none of the conductor candidates on the short list

(three official candidates and one unofficial candidate were booked to lead concerts the next year) had

withdrawn or balked significantly, possibly because the MSO was not the only major symphony

undergoing a financial crisis in the wake of the economic downturn of recent months.

3. Mission and Revenue: A Changing Landscape for Symphonies

Ryan Fleur admits that during the time he has been in Memphis, there has been an active effort

to change the missionand the sense of missionin the MSO. Shortly after Fleurs arrival in 2003, a

think tank including musicians, board members, and staff created a new mission statement, at the heart


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of which was the goal to make meaningful experiences through music. The mission is meant to

encompass more than the traditional performer-audience relationship of the concert hall and to expand

the roles musicians play in the community.

For Fleur, such a change mission is not just for show; it marks a strategic response to the

changing landscape in which arts organizations operate. Fleur describes the change in priorities for

symphonies in this way:

Arts organizations tend to be inwardly focused, a little narcissistic. They say its all about making

great music. Well, if its all about great music, people can go somewhere else. What is it thats

important to Memphis? The idea of patron engagement is to be externally focused. So that

were in the business of serving Memphis through making great music rather in the business of

making great music.

Fleur describes the symphony-going audience as a pyramid, with a very small tip of committed

(and aging) supportersa group numbering in the low hundredsand descending to broader and

broader strata of less and less involved and committed concert-goers. The pyramid bottoms out with

those who might go to a classical concert once in a given year, or might once have attended a concert,

or who might consider the experience. The redesign of the MSO, with all of its attendant programs, is

partly intended to bring in new constituents at every level of the pyramid simultaneously by broadening

appeal and access.

This is a fundamental change in how symphonies operate, and its manifestation in Memphis is

not an isolated transition; across the country, symphonies in particular and arts organizations in general

are reacting in similar ways. Gaylon Patterson, the assistant principal second violinist of the MSO, acted

as the MSO representative in ROPA, the Regional Orchestra Players Association, for several years, and

views the change as one rooted in commitment to the mission:


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The orchestras that are doing well are the ones that are trying not to be so traditional in their

roles, especially in the smaller orchestras, where its very hard, because pay scales are very low

and people have to hold umpteen jobs just to make a living. The level of commitment is hard to

maintain, even more so than in the major orchestras that are paying well. It speaks to a level of

dedication that by far outweighs what the compensation offers, so people who do this work are

very committed to ittheres no other reason to do it.

In concert with this change, Fleur has attempted to reorganize the organizational structure of the

symphony itself. Instead of a flowchart and hierarchy, he now envisions overlapping spheres of

responsibility, with music-making in the center (see appendix 1). For Fleur, the intersection of

accountability (revenue), patron engagement (audience appeal), and artistic engagement (musicians)

lies at the heart of a successful reinvention of the MSO:

The model is people, service, product. What do we have at the symphony? 85% of our budget

is people. You invest in the right people, thats the artistic engagement circle, you deliver the

right service, thats the patron engagement circle, if you do that, were not going to profit, butwere going to have solvency. Thats ultimately what will create the business model. That third

circle is accountability. All of our measurement comes out of there. You can redefine it any

way, but the heart of it is this notion, and Opus One embodies it perfectly, is this new notion

that what were trying to do, for the Symphony, is our missionthat were trying to deploy our

people in ways that create meaningful opportunities for both our artists and our audience, that

are truly relevant to the community, and that ultimately are tied to revenue sources.

It was against this backdrop of change in historical position, immediate solvency and viability,

and adaptation of vision that Gilmore proposed the Opus One project. Both she and Fleur attribute the

roots of the project to reshuffling already going on within the organization, but both also recognize that

this change went far beyond any current offering of the MSO. The institution would now have to


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embrace the input and opinions of musicians, a difficult transition for an orchestra that had traditionally,

based on national models, as Fleur says, treated musicians collectively somewhere on the spectrum

between the servant who comes in the backdoor and the gifted child. The new model would place all

musicians, staff, and management on a level playing field, and while the MSO had been heading in that

direction in some ways, embracing the concept fully represented a true leap of faith in what the

organization could become.

The Creation of Opus One: A New Type of Program

1. Making the Idea Reality: The Initial Challenge

Gilmores idea did not arise out of a vacuum, but it still represented the most radical shift for

the symphony to date, and there was no protocol for developing such an idea when it came from a

musician rather than management. The concept of Opus One as Gilmore presented would mean:

unconducted rehearsals and performances; new, alternative venues; new marketing techniques to reach a younger audience; musician-led efforts at every level of concert preparation; new programming formats.

In its initial stages, the presentation of the Opus One concept brought to the forefront the tension and

distrust that characterized an organization in a difficult financial position, with three key actors, Fleur,

Gilmore, and a powerful board member, Paul Bert, each struggling to determine what to do with this

idea. Bert had approached Gilmore earlier that year and issued a challenge to innovate. She recalls:


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It was in my subconscious that back in September when I had made this conductor site-visit to

Washington with Paul, he spent a lot of that time telling me anecdote after anecdote of how his

success in his business career in many ways was to perceive potential innovation and potential

leaders and groom them and send them off. He was saying, Youre thatkind of person, and Im

waiting to be excited by something thats happening in the symphony. He was ready to get

excited and back something new, not more of the same. When I told him about Opus One

[several months later], Paul immediately saw potentialhe saw potential that I didnt even

want to think about, like change of the whole nature of symphony orchestras to being musician-

run.

Gilmore knew she had the support of Paul Bert; she also saw the dangers of a board member

micromanaging MSO efforts. Fleur recalls the tension of the early stages, but doesnt dwell on it:

Initially there was a moment, almost clandestine, with Susanna and Paul trying to feel out

various people, and the way that Paul deliberately tried to keep it as far from the staff as

possible until it was an idea that shaped.

Gilmore, on the other hand, presents her decision as strategic:

That first meeting happened relatively fast, within two weeks, where I had to pitch this to the

staff, and some people kept probing with all of these ways this could fail, and finally Paul just

said, Im willing to write this check, and what could anyone do? Whether it was right or

wrong, it gave me ammunition to make the pieces fit together.

By involving Bert, Gilmore set wheels into motion that wouldnt now be stopped. She now faced three

major hurdles: convincing the staff and management, convincing the musicians, and convincing the

Memphis audience. Wrapped up in each of these stages were daunting logistical and resource-based

tasks of creating such an unprecedented concert experience. In theory, the idea was a good one, but


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were there, in fact, venues in the city that could support such performances? How exactly did one go

about running unconducted symphony rehearsals, creating the festive atmosphere she envisioned,

choosing which musicians would take part in marketing or second-half performances, securing alcohol

and security or, most importantly, funding? The project soon proved to be far more complicated than

Gilmore originally envisioned, beginning with the pitch to staff and management.

A meeting was scheduled with the staff in late May (near the end of the season and just before

the musicians dispersed for the summer). During the final concert weekend, Gilmore felt out various

other musicians about the project:

I made a deliberate effort to go first to the people who always felt negative about the things we

did and they were the ones who kind of wrapped me up in their negativity, because people look

at me, and Im the musician that when theyre angry at the symphony they think Im part of the

organization, for better or for worse. But I was even getting good results from them.

Armed with positive responses, Gilmore prepared for the staff meeting:

I had a meeting with a few people before the official meeting with the whole staff about two

weeks later, the one with all of the staff and some key board members. I had to have a budget,

figure out how to use Excel, get information about what things cost, and do this document

called a project model. It was something the administration wanted, and I was helped by staff

to put it in a format that the top people wanted to seeI was like a poodle in an obstacle

course, being told, if you want to do this, you have to jump through my hoops. Prove to me that

you can talk like I talk. It was exhausting, not the way I like to work. I think thats part of why

this succeeded; it wasnt just another musician with a hair-brained idea, which happens a lot,

but a musician who felt strongly enough about the idea to be really uncomfortable and try to

learn these skills. I dont know what the point of the project model was; it showed up at that

meeting and everyone went, Wow, and then maybe it was used again or maybe not, I dont

know.


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Ryan wanted to talk about risks, risks, risks, instead of possible successes. But what

came out of that meeting were a couple of good things. And that was the public moment where

Paul backed me. He said he was willing to write a check for ten thousand dollars.

In fact, Bert held back his offer throughout the meeting, suddenly chiming in at the end of the meeting

that he would offer the funds for the project. Even with the promise of some financial investment,

there was an atmosphere of cynicism, tension was still present, the risks were very real, the staff was

still somewhat suspicious though cautiously hopeful, and the project stood a real chance of dying before

it really got started.

Then, a week or so later, Fleur attended attended the League of American Orchestras

convention in Chicago, and he spoke to others from around the country about Opus One. In the

process, he discovered that few or no orchestras were trying anything this adventurous. Then, at the

same conference, he talked to a representative from the Mellon Foundationthe same organization

that provided initial funding for Leading from Every Chair. The MSO, as one musician put it, was the

good child, because he used that money well, and Fleur took the opportunity to pitch the new idea to

the Mellon representative. A little later, he called Gilmore from Chicago and told her the prospects

looked good, that she should think big about what she need to make a start. Within a month, Fleur

had secured a $40,000 grant from the Mellon Foundation to study and prepare for unconducted

performances and Gilmore had proposed uses for the money that included travelling with a group of

musicians to New York City to meet with the Orpheus Ensemble, a musician-run, unconducted group,

and to meet with Eric Booth, the arts consultant who helped to develop Leading From Every Chair. Most

importantly, the grant gave real possibility to an abstract idea and generated not only buy-in but a sense

of excitement from key staff and management players.

The next hurdle, then, was to bring musicians on board. Here, the very nature of the projects

development was both a benefit and a challengemost of the initial work was completed, out of


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necessity, at the tail end of one season and over the summer, and thus without the knowledge of the

larger body of musicians, though word had leaked out about the project. Gilmore is aware of the

difficulty of pitching a project that relies on democracy and ownership in this way:

When the initial idea of different committees fit in, in that first week or so, I just plopped people

in based on who seemed enthusiastic so far. That certainly wasnt a democratic process

because I hadnt been able to talk to the orchestra as a whole, it was just based on wanderings

through the rehearsals and breaks. Then we had to pick who was going to New York and start

spreading information and make sure everybody knew what this was. That turned out to be

very difficult because of the timing. For a long time, I couldnt tell everybody anything because

nothing was official, and then we werent together for the summer and I was out of the country

for all of August, and so I then had to fight this perception that we had withheld information.

Were still fighting it, and were going to tremendous lengths to do some damage control, to try

to disseminate the information, not to seem like a secret cadre of people who are in the know

or in charge or who got to go to New York. It probably would have happened regardless

because ideas come from a person, not a committee. Its a catch-22; the idea came from me

and worked maybe in part because of that, but because it came from me, I have to convince my

colleagues Im not making some sort of power grab.

Nonetheless, several decisions helped to secure the investment and interest of the musicians. Fleur

credits consultant Eric Booth with the idea to distribute a survey early on that asked musicians to

comment on the project. The trick, here, was that every item on the survey, which was largely

constructed in multiple choice format, contained four possible negative answers and only one positive

answer, allowing musicians to vent their frustrations and express concerns right from the start. The

whole idea is to neutralize the negative energy, says Fleur, because the value system weve built

before has been this quality of passive-aggressiveness. In fact, of the nineteen surveys returned, only

one expressed mostly negative responses, but even so the surveys raised valuable questions and

concerns that the staff and lead musicians could address.


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By this time, it was clear that Opus One would become a reality, at least for one season; funding

was beginning to appear as Paul Bert spread interest among board members and other MSO patrons

and time had been included in the schedule for the concerts. Still, more significant buy-in from

musicians was imperative. Without musician ownership, the project wouldnt succeed in either its

short-term goalscreating a strong concert experiencenor its long-term objectives of redesigning the

organization.

In late September, a committee of seven musicians travelled to New York City to meet with

Booth, observe and discuss processes with the Orpheus ensemble, and reflect on the survey data. It was

during this trip that ownership truly began to emerge. Gilmore recalls a particular moment when she

was at last able to sit back and watch as other musicians began to volunteer for roles in the new

organizational scheme; the other musicians even advised her not to take on an official role as supervisor

of the project, preferring to create a more communal structure of responsibility. By the time the ad hoc

committee returned from New York, seven bucket leaders had been identified, many of them

musicians who had been involved in other projects such as Leading From Every Chair, but some coming

from other constituencies (one musician, for instance, was a per service bass player who would donate

his time to Opus One without the benefit of the extra payments involved in the capacity-building clause

of the master agreement). Gilmore would be the bucket leader for development, but other musicians

stepped up to take control of six other areas: marketing, PR, hospitality, tickets and alcohol, production,

and internal communications.

Upon the return of this group from New York, things moved swiftly. A full meeting of the

symphony musicians and staff convened and the idea was officially presented to the full organization.

The committee of musicians (not management) presented the ideas and findings from the trip, including

a possible non-binding code of conduct for rehearsals (unlike union regulations for rehearsal time, for

instance). A musician-only blog was created to allow internal communication to flow more freely;


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management and staff were not included. By October 14, two more important pieces of the puzzle had

fallen into place. An itemized vote on the code of conduct showed that over 90% of musicians accepted

every part of the proposal. In addition, when core musicians officially opted in to capacity-building

activities for the season, nine chose to work on Opus One (others chose no project, Leading From Every

Chair, or the Soulsville Charter School as their focus). This brought the number of musicians working in a

staff capacity to sixteen, or nearly half of the full-time core.

2. The Way Forward: Opus Ones First Season and Organization

At the time of this writing, there are three Opus One performances scheduled for the 2009-2010

season. The first, which takes place in December, is a limited preview performance for patrons and

other possible supportersa dry run of sorts. The second performance, scheduled for March, takes

place in an ornate but empty bank lobby in downtown Memphis and features the music of Beethoven

and a big band performance by the horns of the MSO. The third and final concert will help round out

the season in May; the venue is a privately owned performance space called the Warehouse in

downtown Memphiss up and coming South Main arts district. Approximately $25,000 has been raised

for the season (the initial goal was $30,000), with one donor promising to pay more if there is a shortfall

at the end of the series. Nonetheless, says Fleur, this revenue may be misleading, in that most of the

donors are already MSO patrons and supporters:

Theres always been some concern on the funding front. In every single case where we ve

gotten gifts, its not really new dollars, its shifting around dollars that were already being given.

At the end of the day, we have to make sure its generating new bodies and new dollars,

otherwise were spinning our wheels.


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As development continues, the hope is that new donors will appear.

In the midst of this early success, however, deep concerns persist. The two most clearly

identifiable of these are continued resistance and the changing scope of musicians responsibilities. The

first of these worries Gilmore; she sees a small but entrenched pocket of resistance from musicians

themselves, though other stakeholders evaluate the significance of this resistance differently. According

to Gilmore, there are two sources of potential protest:

Resistance comes from people who resist the musicians leading this, and also from people who

resist their worldview of what a symphony is changing. Its generational, somewhat. Theres a

sense of loss from some people about not being able just to play.

Gaylon Patterson, a twenty-four year veteran of the symphony, agrees, but focuses on possible positive

outcomes:

Some of us saw the change coming down the pike years ago. There are other people who have

been more tunnel-vision oriented, who say, Thats not what I signed up to do; Im going to do

my job. For me personally, Im further down that road because Ive been involved in all that

conversationIf you go and do the background on peoples level of dissatisfaction in orchestras,

it has to do with lack of control very often, because youre told everything about your job

follow ordersyet we as artists are trained to be original, creative people, to have original

ideas. There may be a program where theres not a single piece that I would choose to play, but

its my responsibility to do my best. Changing that to add more say in what we do and how we

do it, theres something valuable in that. Theres always going to be resisters, but even they will

come around, I think.

Most of those involved in the project agree that outright resistance is isolated to a few members

of the organization and that even skepticism is shrinking. There is also, here, an organization challenge

not faced by those in the private sector: MSO musicians, because of union rules embodied in the master


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agreement between management and musicians, are nearly impossible to dismiss from their posts after

the first year (when they gain tenure). For this reason, the MSO cannot anticipate eliminating hostility

to the idea by eliminating personnelthe idea of performing with the right people at the right time,

as Fleur puts it, must in some ways be reflected in performances of the people who are in place at the

right time, whatever attitudes they hold. Nonetheless, Fleur points out that nearly one third of the MSO

has turned over since his arrival, and expects more voluntary turnover in the next several years as

musicians adapt, or fail to adapt, to the new organizational model. In the meantime, Gilmore and other

musicians who support the change must answer to colleagues who do not, not only through meetings

and correspondence but on the spot, in rehearsals.

A second challenge for the organization is more deeply embedded and presents less clear

possibilities for resolution. As Patterson and Gilmore hint above, the assumption of responsibilities

normally relegated to staff and management by musicians may sometimes feel at odds with their artistic

sensibilities even as they offer more control and input. Patterson feels the shift in expectation acutely:

Its a double-edged sword. Its an awful lot of responsibility. I feel a lot of pressure from it. I

feel that the future of the entire organization right now is largely in the hands of the musicians

and how they respond to challenges that are coming down the pike, and thats a lot of pressure.

If the orchestra folds, Ill feel like its a personal failure to solve the problems that need solving.

Not that I can or should do it on my own, but if we all just say, thats somebody elses problem,

then were done. The pressure, I dont likemost people that have that kind of pressure are

considerably higher up in their organizations and arent worried about paying their grocery bill

each week. The level of responsibility compared to compensation is absurd, really. Its hard not

to resent that. Thats the negative side. The positive side is that if I do something, and it helps

the bottom line or the public image or it helps fulfill a need in the city, there is a sense of

accomplishment that comes with thatits a gratifying thing to do, its an intangible.


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Similarly, Gilmore, as concertmaster and initiator of the idea, has found herself constantly balancing the

demands on her time:

Its hard for me; when I start to practice, now, I have to fight this feeling of guilt that I should be

working on Opus One, doing development, whatever. This week, I probably had three days

where I didnt practice other than MSO rehearsal because of constant meetings. Thats not

good for art, its not good for me as an artist. But the old model doesnt exist, not in a country

where the arts arent subsidized.

The need to balance the artistic demands of a symphony that wishes to perform at the highest possible

level with the flattening of the organization promises to present logistical and artistic challenges on an

ongoing basis.

A Picture of Success: The Future of Opus One and the MSO

All of those involved in the Opus One project are tempted by simple definitions of what a

successful program might look like. Fleur, for instance, presents success initially in terms of artist

ownership and fulfillment:

My take is the project itself can actually be a major failure, if there are ten fronts and it fails on

nine of the ten fronts it can actually still be a major organizational success. And the one thing

that has to work is it has to be musically fulfilling for the artists who are participating, and if its

musically fulfilling for the artists who are participating, it means that theyve learned something

along the way about how to communicate. If it means that theyve also learned something in

trying to do all of the other stuffthe logistics, etc.all of those can fail, nobody can show up,

there can be no chairs on stage, it can be too hot, the sound could be bad, but if weve achieved

the artistic and people feel good, we have the ground then to say, Well, why didnt those other

things work and what would you do differently next time? after we construct a lot of feedback


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to each and thats the key. Thats been the obstacle, not just that holds us back but that holds

every orchestra back, is we just dont know how to talk to each other.

Patterson, on the other hand, paints a picture of success in terms of audience fulfillment:

I would consider it a success if the audience that comes has a positive experience, whatever that

means to them. Even if its a small audience. If its an audience that we dont normally see in

the concert hall, thats a plusespecially if its someone who shows up at Opus One, then five

years down the road shows up at a concert hall and isnt scared of the experience, thats a

measure of success.

And Gilmore sees the project as a spearhead for changing the MSOs identity in the city as well as for

fulfilling the needs of an organization with lackluster morale:

My definition of success is a little touchy-feely. I have a lot of high aspirations in terms of

rebranding the symphony in the city, and that younger people feel its cool to go a concert and

be seen there, and its not stuffy or highbrow. I want this formula of mixing classical and non-

classical music to succeed in keeping classical alive, and people to realize that watching a

performance up close is an exhilarating experience. But I also want this to be something the

musicians own, that we feel proud of, that we feel we are playing better than ever and with a

level of energy and interaction that has not been seen. If at any point someone in the last chair

of the violins has a moment where they make a comment that is actually tried, to me that

building of self-esteem is worth anything. There are big picture goals, but I want this to be

something that keeps our souls alive.

At heart, the project is a focal point for the MSO in part because it hits on every need faced by

the organization, and as such imparts symbolic importance at several levels. Opus One seeks to attract

new audience members, generate new revenue, inspire musicians and management, create civic

connections and purpose, and, not least, create community in a way that symphonies have rarely seen


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before. These complex and interdependent goals both energize those closest to the project and make

their work more difficult; at this late date, for example, there are still deep discussions both online and

in person among constituents about branding and marketing. On the one hand, these discussions lie in

the realm of work by committee, but on the other hand, they reflect the difficulty of summing up in

simple terms a project that is complex in both its public manifestation and its private aspirations.

Nonetheless, excitement about the project continues to grow, and orchestra members have

begun to share their vision of what one member of the organization calls an open-source symphony;

word filters out through new avenues for the MSO, including Facebook and alternative city publications.

And, as each new member of the community claims a stake in putting the project together, others find

themselves having to release the very control they worked hard to gain as soon as one committee

chair delegates his or her new-found responsibility, he or she also relinquishes that responsibility.

Decisions are now being made by musicians about, as an oboe player put it in a piece he wrote for MSO

patrons, everything from the pieces on the program to the napkin under your drink at the concert

reception.

An early publicity photo for the project shows the same oboe player, instrument in hand, on a

city street in downtown Memphis. The player and his instrument are partly visible, partly blurry, while

the focus of the shot is the musicians hand, outstretched, with the word LISTEN written in block

letters on his palm. The message is not lost: Opus One represents a new way for the audience to listen,

for musicians to listen to one another, and for the organization to listen to its environment. Whether or

not Opus One succeeds in quantifiable terms, there is little doubt that it has created a new

organizational model and a new expectation of organizational function for the MSO.


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Part Two: An Analysis of Opus One

More than twenty years ago, Peter F. Drucker famously included the symphony as a model

organization for companies looking to restructure. In the classic corporate model, Drucker (1988)

argued, a symphony would have multiple vice-presidents and middle managers,

but thats not how it works. There is only the conductor CEOand every one of the musicians

plays directly to that person without an intermediary. And each is a high-grade specialist,

indeed an artist. (p. 6)

In one sense, Drucker hit on a crucial concept: symphonies do not operate according to a corporate

model, and yet they achieve a remarkably efficient output for the number of people involved, producing

sometimes numerous full programs each week, week after week, under the direction of a single

conductor. What Drucker missed, however, was the complexity of the symphony orchestra and, by

neglecting that complexity, he presented an oversimplification of the system. Efficiency, after all, is not

the main goal of an orchestra, nor is, necessarily, solvency. Moreover, the high-grade level of individuals

sometimes goes unfulfilled or is even diminished by the traditional process.

Perhaps more than any other organization, symphonies embody paradoxes. To some extent,

these paradoxes mirror those one might find in corporate organizations, such as the tension between

empowering others and retaining the power of command (Barach & Eckhart, 1996). Yet in the

symphony context such paradoxes run deeper than one might find elsewhere. Orchestral musicians

such as those in the MSO are trained to think creatively, artistically, and collaboratively; most have

played in chamber ensembles and all have likely played in small groups without artistic oversight as part

of their education. In orchestral rehearsals, however, musicians rarely interact, and all communication

is passed in extremely deferential terms through the conductor. As Levine and Levine (1995) describe it:


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During rehearsals or concerts, musicians experience a total lack of control over their

environment. They do not control when the music starts, when the music ends, or how the

music goes. They dont even have the authority to leave the stage to attend to personal needs.

They are, in essence, rats in a maze, at the whim of the god with the baton. (p. 20)

Moreover, symphony musicians are specialists on their own instruments, moreso than any conductor

can be, and are also highly trained musical practitioners, yet issues of pitch, ensemble, and technical

performance often go unaddressed because to raise such issues would challenge the authority of the

conductor. Many orchestras create great music and art despite these paradoxes, but research has

noted the deep dissatisfaction some musicians feel when they lack control over their work product and

environment (Levine & Levine, 1995, Muringhan & Conlon, 1991).

In addition, if musicians have traditionally been uninvolved in performance decisions in

symphonies, their role in governance is generally even more marginal. There are multiple leaders of

such organizations, including boards, administrative managers, and artistic directors, but rarely are

musicians themselves involved in high-level decision-making or key issues of governance and strategy

(Allmendinger, et al., 1996, Noteboom, 2003). A number of writers have called for changes in this

structure and for the inclusion of musicians in roles of governance, including a notable appeal for a

paradigm shift in response to ailing finances and shrinking audiences by Thomas Wolf in 1992 and

responses by various proponents of changes in leadership for orchestras in the following years

(Dempster, 2002). By and large, however, musicians continue to function in the traditional roles of cogs

in the overall performance machine.


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Opus One: Organizational Reform and the MSO

In undertaking the Opus One project, the Memphis Symphony has tied itself to an organizational

risk perhaps greater than even the series founding musicians realize. On the one hand, the breakdown

of the traditional paradoxes of orchestras and the accompanying re-layering of governance, autonomy

of work, and creative and practical control may well contribute to a new structure that sets the

organization apart from others and, ultimately, improves both its product and its bottom line. On the

other hand, such restructuring in a time of flux (even though such restructuring could perhaps only

happen in a time of flux) carries with it some dangers: of financial failure, of increasing hostility and

tension between musicians rather than decreasing them, or of distracting from the important job of

choosing a new artistic director.

Potential Successes

There are those who might see increased control by musicians as a drawback for the Memphis

Symphony , who would believe that a symphony does not need content musicians but only musicians

who do their jobs. A growing body of research and opinion, however, speaks to the contrary. To begin

with, musicians do not take on positions or roles within the orchestra for simple reasons. In a study of

British string quartets, for instance, Murnighan and Conlon (1991) discovered that string musicians tend

to see their work as leading toward a spiritual experience (p. 166) and that for these musicians

performance and rehearsal is aimed at inspiration and transcendence. Levine and Levine (1996)

similarly identify the stressor on orchestral musicians of striving for a perfect ideal that can never be

achieved.


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It requires little imagination to conceive of the notion that such creatively-oriented individuals

would seek control over their own artistic and practical work environment. It should be taken into

account, as well, that many musicians in the MSO are of a new generation, one that expects a flatter

model and more frequent communication. Bova and Kroth (2001), for instance, note that younger

workers such as those of generation X embrace change, independence, diversity, and wish to create

their own learning environments (p. 58); musicians are, in many ways, constant learners.

In this sense, Opus One allows a conduit for expression and creativity that many MSO musicians,

despite the supposedly artistic and creative nature of their work, rarely experience. Moreover, it

extends that conduit to control over the work environment itself and not just the work product. The

potential success for the organization is more than symbolic; musicians as fully involved workers might

allow the organization to reduce overhead costs, to maximize the potential of its employees, and to

produce more efficient, more creative, or more appealing products. While not every MSO series or

production will likely be run, ever, in the Opus One model, the project offers possible reforms to

organizational structure that might conceivably stretch into many arenas. Toeplitz (2003 ) recognizes

the crucial nature of such involvement:

A particularly important part of becoming a collaborative orchestra organization involves the

musicians seeing themselves as partners, particularly with the board and management. We all

need to leave behind the traditional we/they adversarial relationship. Musicians need to

accept increased responsibility with authority and acquire a deeper sense of ownership. They

need to join the other constituencies in understanding that everyone has a stake in the final

resultsartistically and economicallywhether those results are positive or negative. (pp. 136-

137)

The emphasis here on involvement in both success and failure is an important one for Opus One, which

rests so deeply on musicians leadership for achieving its goals.


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In addition to the possible benefits of increased control, there exists the intangible but crucial

potential for increased morale and artistic fulfillment in both a specific and general sense among

musicians. Levine and Levine (1996) point to one danger that a chronic lack of control can exert on

musicians: infantilization (p. 22). Musicians subjected to a constant, patrimonial system can resort to

acting like children and creating a we/they dichotomy that deepens with every decision made by

organizational leaders. Ultimately, such divisions extend to the music itself, often in the form of passive-

aggressive response through performance rather than any other means. At the same time, however,

musicians who are given control and input may well accept even imperfect performances as valuable

and fulfilling experiences.

A final potential success, and possibly the most important in terms of the sheer survival of the

MSO organization, is the very real potential for the project to benefit the symphony financially and in

terms of community relationships and image. The various constituents of the organization are reluctant

to speculate about such ends, falling back frequently on discussion of artistic aims and achievement.

Nonetheless, Opus One has already garnered well over $60,000 of income for the MSO and has brought

a number of new actors to the table. Recently, for instance, a host committee of fifty couplesnone of

whom are current patrons of the organizationwas formed to help raise awareness about the project

throughout the city. In a time of economic uncertainty for the organization, Opus One has not only

sustained itself so far but shows definite signs of broadening the appeal and audience of the

organizationall the more reason for the MSO to ensure its success, since the visibility of the program

also increases the risks of the undertaking.


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Potential Failures

Despite multiple avenues through which a project such as Opus One might increase

participation and value to the community and bottom line for the Memphis Symphony, the project is

not without peril. Most notably, one of the very aspects of the organization that makes Opus One a

possibilityits current position between artistic directorscould later prove a deep source of conflict

and tension. Obviously, a conductor who does not appreciate relinquishing control or allowing

increased input from musicians could enter the organization to encounter, or produce, hostility. Levine

and Levine (1996) note that most conductors already resent having control taken away from them after

150 minutes of rehearsal. A music director voluntarily giving control of an entire series to musicians,

and with it perhaps a level of control during all other rehearsals, is a leap for any orchestra.

There is, however, a less obvious pitfall embedded in the introduction of Opus One during the

year of a conductor search. As part of its move toward increasing inclusion of musicians, the MSO has

included six musicians on the search committee itself, four more than is called for by the master

agreement and half of the total committee (several of these musician representatives, including Gilmore

and Patterson, are also heavily involved in Opus One). This musician involvement is in keeping with the

spirit of Opus One, but it poses the potential hazard of deepening distrust and tension rather than

increasing it. If the musicians disagree over the choice of a conductor (which, at the time of this writing,

they do to some extent), friction could increase; if that disagreement is in part tied to the conductors

feelings about Opus One, the friction could be exacerbated.

Noteboom (2003) notes the importance of civility and trust in orchestral projects that require

collaborative governance. Levine and Levine (1996), who discuss a number of stressors (p. 15) faced

by orchestral musicians, fail to mention civility as a factor, but those authors do discuss the normative

myth of the conductor as a divinely mandated leader and of the deferential manner in which rehearsals


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are conducted. Opus One threatens that normative structure. Most telling, a study of string quartets,

which research often suggests contain generally happier and more content musicians than do

orchestras, recognizes the deep distress conflict can bring to musical ensembles (Murnigan & Conlon,

1991). Among the nature of destructive conflict in such ensembles, those authors cite examples in

which musicians possess different perceptions about the nature of conflicts, the danger of facile

compromise, the danger of avoiding conflict entirely, and the danger of continuous conflict. With a

much larger number of musicians whose disagreements run to other areas of work such as the

conductor search, those pitfalls are omnipresent and could, in fact, prove impossible to avoid. As Levine

and Levine (1996) also note, Adding ones colleagues to the list of taskmasters may not seem very

attractive to many musicians, even with reciprocal privileges (p. 23).

A second jeopardy posed by Opus One is that the solution could be, in effect, worse than the

problem, that musicians could find themselves doing more work for few or unimportant results, that

burnout and de-motivation could result. In the traditional model of the symphony as Noteboom (2003)

describes it, Everyone had his or her place and was expected to stay in it. If the performance was bad,

blame the musicians. If too little gift income was raised, blame the staff. If there was scandal, blame the

board (p. 34). In the MSO, musicians have taken on roles that could allow for blame in all areas, from

performance to logistics to fund-raising. Moreover, the musicians have committed themselves to a

heavy load of work in addition to the full slate of performance and rehearsal demanded of orchestral

players. The energy and vibrancy that many musicians bring to the project at present could detract from

motivation to the same extent if finances or emotions turn sour.

Finally, as a new music director enters the scene, board members change, and natural musician

turnover takes its course, there is a danger of the organization developing contradictory identities.

Gilmore and Patterson, among many others, have developed images of themselves as musician-leaders;

take that image away, and what is left is not the old model of the line worker, but a more dysfunctional


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model of a worker who wants and is used to control and isnt offered it. Gilmores first forays into the

corporate world ofsymphony management are revealing, here, since, as one author describes it,

orchestras identities are composed of contradictory elements because they contain actors (artisans

and administrators) who come from different professions; as a result, different groups of actors cherish

and promote different aspects of the groups identity (Glynn, 2000, p. 285). One might expand Glynns

statement to include board members, patrons, staff, and grant organizations, but the key relationship is

likely to be that between conductor, executive director, and a few musicians. If these actors cannot

envision the same direction for the MSO within the next crucial months, much deeper rifts than simple

disagreements over rehearsal procedures could easily develop.

Conclusion

Glaze and Wolf (2000) suggest that the need to reshape organizations is, for the world of orchestras, not

merely a luxury:

The crisis in the orchestra business is so significant that even the largest orchestras are no

longer ignoring reality. In smaller communities, the very survival of orchestras depends on

change. Significant and exciting things are happening on the stage, in the community, and in the

leadership structures of many orchestras.

Change for the Memphis Symphony Orchestra fits this description; Opus One represents not only a

restructuring of the MSO for the sake of morale or greater inclusion, though those are certainly

byproducts of the series, but a piece of an ongoing effort to salvage an institution that has been

dangerously close to ceasing to exist in recent years.


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Will Opus One succeed? It seems likely at the time of this writing. What is certain, however, is

that Opus One has resulted already in a number of lessons for orchestras and similar organizations

looking to create new frameworks and programs that ensure productivity for a new climate. Among

these lessons come the determinations that:

Symphonies contain an enormous reservoir of untapped potential in its musicians and thecreative alliances that can be formed between musicians and other constituents;

Musicians understand and personalize aspects of organizational crisis and structure far beyondthe scope of their immediate and traditional roles, particularly when there is a compelling

organizational need for them to do so;

Organizational reform involves a constant process of working in small groups and then letting goof control;

Structuring new organizational models and new partnerships involves planned communication,particularly internally;

Reforms to organizations do not occur in isolationthey are linked to all other aspects of theorganization, and multiple actors and outcomes must be anticipated;

The heart of any reform effort must be a shared sense of identity and mission, which in turnrequires deep discussion of identity and mission at multiple levels;

Not all actors adjust to organizational restructuring at the same ratepatience is needed asinformation is disseminated and musicians, staff, board members, and the public come to terms

with what that information means;

The new model of symphony success, especially for mid-level and smaller symphonies, willrequire new models of community partnership and engagement;

Musicians exist in a high-stress, paradoxical environment that will not be entirely alleviated byany reform and therefore tension will naturally accompany any new programs or serieshere,

again, communication is a key factor in success;

Success is measured differently by different actors in the organization, but some generallyagreed-upon measures should be included in the process.

The organizational landscape of the Memphis Symphony Orchestra is undoubtedly changing, and with


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that change there will arise both costs and benefits that are currently unforeseen. As the MSO builds an

active citizenry of musician-leaders, however, it is recreating the image of the traditional symphony

orchestra in a new mold.


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Works Cited

Allmendinger, J., Hackman, J. R., & Lehman, E. V. (1996). Life and work in symphony orchestras. Musical

Quarterly, 80, 194-219.

Barach, J. A., & Eckhart, D. E. (1998). The paradoxes of leadership. In Leading Organizations: Perspectives

for a New Era. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.

Bova, B., & Kroth, M. (2001). Workplace learning and generation X. Journal of Workplace Learning, 13

(2), 57-65.

Dempster, D. J. (2002). The wolf report and Baumols curse: the economic health of American symphony

orchestras in the 1990s and beyond. Harmony, 15, 1-23. Retrieved December 3, 2009, from

http://www.soi.org/harmony/archive/15/Wolf_Report_Dempster.pdf

Drucker, P. F. (1988, January). The coming of the new organization. Harvard Business Review, 1-3.

Retrieved December 3, 2009, from http://www3.unicatt.it/unicattolica/

Formazione_Permanente/IREF/DSCO/Corso2_16_03_05.pdf

Glaze, N., & Wolf, T. (2000). Who's afraid of symphony orchestras? Grantmakers in the Arts, 17(1).

Retrieved December 3, 2009, from

http://www.giarts.org/library_additional/library_additional_show.htm?doc_id=402910

Glynn, M. A. (2000). When cymbals become symbols: conflict over organizational identity within a

symphony orchestra. Organization Science, 11(3), 285-298.

Levine, S., & Levine, R. (1996). Why they're not smiling: stress and discontent in the orchestra

workplace. Harmony, 2, 14-25.

Murnighan, J. K., & Conlon, D. E. (1991). The dynamics of intense work groups: a study of British string

quartets.Administrative Science Quarterly, 36, 165-185.

National Endowment for the Arts. (2008).Arts Participation 2008: Highlights from a National Survey.


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Washington, DC.

Noteboom, L. J. (2003). Good governance for challenging times: the spco experience. Harmony, 16, 29-

46. Retrieved December 3, 2009, from http://www.soi.org/harmony/archive/16/

Good_Gov_Noteboom.pdf

Toeplitz, G. (2003). From challenge to success: what must change? Harmony, 16, 133-

138. Retrieved December 3, 2009, from http://www.soi.org/harmony/archive/16/

Challenge_Success_Toeplitz.pdf


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Appendix One: Organizational Model of the MSO

memphis symphony orchestra_case study

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