‘1,000-Watt’ Fresno Maestro Divides Patrons

Some of the more cultivated citizens of this farming capital will head to the ballot box Tuesday to decide the fate of Raymond Harvey, a gay black man who stands at the center of one of the strangest feuds to ever seize the populace here.

Harvey isn’t an activist or politician or criminal, although he was seen in public the other night disguised in a biker jacket and sunglasses, wielding a sword and sporting the alias “Bad Boy Beethoven.”

This quarrel in California’s heartland is, after all, about classical music and Harvey is the maestro who has brought back the 45-year-old Fresno Philharmonic from the near-dead, spreading the wonders of Brahms and Schubert to farmers, beauticians and landscapers.

In June, a few weeks after the local newspaper credited Harvey’s “thousand-watt” style with saving the philharmonic and photographed him and his partner tending to flowers in their garden, the maestro was ousted for “insubordination” by the symphony board.

The town, at least those passionate about cultural arts, has been at war ever since, and the vitriol, which even pits husbands against wives, isn’t likely to stop with Tuesday’s vote. The 600 residents who have season tickets to the philharmonic will be asked to either keep Harvey or retain the current board, a “damned if you do, damned if you don’t proposition” if ever there was one.

Conductor’s Fans Vs. Arts Establishment

The 48-year-old conductor has been a genuine star of this valley, a nimble pitchman who can be lofty and buttoned down in one performance and garbed in black leather the next, waving a loaf of French bread and a long blade as batons to impersonate a street tough named Ludwig “Bad Boy” van Beethoven.

For six months, his fans have fought to wrest control of the symphony from what they call the “local arts mafia.” They say the tightly knit group of museum and philharmonic devotees objects to Harvey because he receives too much attention, doesn’t closet his lifestyle and refuses to water down his musical vision.

Under the banner “Save Our Symphony,” Harvey supporters vow to return the philharmonic to the people, a cultural coup d’etat in a town where people more often feud over the price per ton of raisins.

But board members say that Harvey, despite his obvious talent, was let go because of arrogance, his refusal to attend key meetings and failure to be a team player. It had nothing to do, they say, with his sexual orientation or fondness for the limelight. They insist that this season will be his last, and they boast that the search for a replacement has garnered 150 applicants.

The fate of Harvey and the Fresno Philharmonic--one of a handful of mid-size symphonies statewide that have managed to survive and flourish--seems headed for a close vote.

Each side predicts doom if the outcome doesn’t tally its way. If the current board wins and Harvey goes, his supporters say, so goes a big chunk of the symphony audience. If Harvey stays, current board members vow, you can say goodbye to big donations from them and their wealthy friends.

It’s gotten so contentious that prominent Fresnans are buying $250 memberships for their employees and young children--so they can vote. Ironically, on the eve of its most fateful hour, the symphony has never been more flush with subscribers.

“To take up the cause of a fired conductor and keep it going for six months is a rare thing in the symphony world,” Harvey said. “And it’s amazing to think that all these people in Fresno are choosing up sides, and it’s not about sports and it’s not about politics. It’s about music.”

Harvey’s critics say they only wish that was true. “This isn’t about music. This is about Raymond and his cult of celebrity,” said Robert Lippert, the philharmonic’s executive director who clashed with Harvey.

Save Our Symphony “doesn’t care if Toscanini himself rises from the grave and comes to Fresno. They’re not going to be happy unless the conductor on stage is Raymond,” Lippert said.

Many top maestros juggle two and three conducting jobs in cities that are often far-flung. It’s not always easy keeping patrons and musicians happy, and the task has been especially daunting in Fresno, with its limited pool of competent musicians. Harvey, who earns $100,000 here, has had to import players from Los Angeles and San Francisco.

And then there’s the endless quest for donated time and money. Needing to raise $1.5 million a year, the Fresno Philharmonic must rely on a handful of farmers, developers and professionals. The city is known in philanthropic circles as one of the nation’s skinflints.

“We don’t grow a lot of turnips here to squeeze,” said Larry Early, owner of Dumont Printing and a longtime philharmonic contributor.

City Has a Cultural Tradition

What makes the current fight so remarkable is the notion, fixed deep into the psyche, that Fresno is a place without highbrow culture.

Harvey, a New Yorker who earned a doctorate in music from Yale University and has served as guest conductor for the Boston Pops and other symphonies, said he discovered a more layered Fresno when he arrived in 1993.

Some of the nation’s finest poets and writers--Phil Levine, Larry Levis and William Saroyan--found their voices here.

Unlike previous conductors, who would fly in during concert weeks, Harvey and his longtime partner found a Spanish-style home in an older neighborhood and set down roots.

The first three years were sweet. Memberships jumped from 1,800 to 2,700 and preconcert lectures, which used to lull to sleep a crowd of 50, were drawing 1,000 people. The attraction was Harvey, a trained singer and actor, too.

His musicians say they have never had a more capable boss. “Raymond cares about the music and the musicians in a way I’ve never seen,” said Terrie Baune, a violinist in the 65-member orchestra. “The official line from the board is that Raymond is a prima donna. I’ve played under hundreds of conductors over 25 years and encountered plenty of prima donnas. Raymond isn’t one of them.”

In the gay community, which only 15 years ago was too frightened to declare itself, much less hold an annual parade down Olive Avenue, Harvey stands as an icon.

“How many gay role models are there in Fresno? I can’t think of one who’s in the limelight like Raymond,” said Tim Woods, co-owner of Echo restaurant. “Raymond has made it better for all of us.”

Board members acknowledge Harvey’s skill as a musician, educator and showman. They say they can’t be more specific about why they let him go, citing private personnel matters.

Don Black, a Superior Court judge and board member, compared Harvey to Wilt Chamberlain, the Hall of Fame basketball center who died recently. “Here was Chamberlain, a great player, and the Philadelphia 76ers decided they had to get rid of him for the good of the team. The chemistry was wrong, and it’s the same with Raymond. He has undermined the functions of the executive director and the board. He wants to control the entire organization.”

The board’s sometimes vague explanations have confounded many. Did Harvey thumb his nose at some hidden convention? Did the Fresno Bee’s feature story too boldly flaunt his lifestyle? Or did he simply fail to pay homage to the board?

Several patrons, who backed Harvey’s removal, agree that a series of little things added up. They said Harvey and the new executive director, Lippert, could hardly stand to be in the same room together. Harvey had opposed Lippert’s selection because he didn’t have any musical background.

Whenever Lippert or others floated ideas to draw in minority audiences--the symphony doing mariachi, the symphony sponsoring a Saroyan Festival--Harvey pooh-poohed them as a bad fit, they said. Harvey complained about budget cuts even though the symphony faced a $400,000 deficit.

And twice in the past year, they recalled, Harvey failed to shake the hand of major donors during post-concert receptions. It didn’t help, they said, that he missed meetings with executive staffers and then informed them, by letter, that he would be juggling Fresno with a new conducting job in Michigan.

Then came the last straw, his critics said: the three-page spread on Harvey in the Bee. They said the photograph of him and his lover, a white man, irritated a few patrons and board members. But many more were upset by the depiction of Harvey as symphony savior.

“He’s a big phony,” said one longtime patron, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “If the vote goes his way, I’ve already changed my will. None of my money will be going to the philharmonic. In fact, I’m seriously thinking of moving to San Francisco.”

Harvey said his critics were looking for any excuse. “I didn’t mean to snub anyone. But I did disagree with the board about their vision. I was very upfront about what I wanted musically and they didn’t like that.”

Civic leaders fear the wounds will not easily heal. Lifelong friends no longer talk. One husband and wife have agreed for the sake of harmony to avoid mention of Harvey.

On the election’s eve, the controversy has ensnared the Bee’s publisher and prominent contributors who have also done business with the philharmonic. The paper supported Harvey in two editorials and then suddenly changed course and said he had to go. His supporters say the about-face happened after Publisher Keith Moyer, a former member of the philharmonic board, returned from vacation to discover the feud and talked with board members. Moyer did not return phone calls seeking comment.

“They say it’s a beautiful thing, people in Fresno fighting over classical music,” said board member Susan Early. “But I don’t see beauty. What I see is incredible indignities and personal attacks and a 45-year-old institution hanging on for dear life.”