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The Chicago Symphony Orchestra family remembers one of its iconic musicians, Milton Preves (1909–2000), in honor of the anniversary of his birth on June 18.
Born in Cleveland, Preves moved to Chicago as a teenager and attended Senn High School. He was a student of Leon Sametini at Chicago Musical College, Richard Czerwonky at the Bush Conservatory of Music, and Albert Noelte and Ramon Girvin at the Institute of Music and Allied Arts before attending the University of Chicago.
Preves joined the Little Symphony of Chicago in 1930, regularly worked in radio orchestras, and was invited by Mischa Mischakoff (then CSO concertmaster) to join the Mischakoff String Quartet in 1932. Two years later, second music director Frederick Stock appointed Preves to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s viola section, promoting him to assistant principal in 1936 and principal in 1939. He would remain in that post for the next forty-seven years, serving under a total of seven music directors, including Désiré Defauw, Artur Rodzinski, Rafael Kubelík, Fritz Reiner, Jean Martinon, and Sir Georg Solti.
Preves performed as a soloist with the Orchestra on dozens of occasions, including the world premieres of David Van Vactor’s Viola Concerto and Ernest Bloch’s Suite hébraïque for Viola and Orchestra, both dedicated to him. Under Reiner, he recorded Richard Strauss’s Don Quixote—along with cellist Antonio Janigro and concertmaster John Weicher—with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra for RCA in 1959.

A lifelong educator, Preves served on the faculties of Roosevelt, Northwestern, and DePaul universities, and he also always taught privately out of his home. An avid conductor, he held titled posts with the North Side Symphony Orchestra of Chicago, Oak Park–River Forest Symphony, Wheaton Summer Symphony, Gary Symphony, and the Gold Coast Chamber Orchestra. As a chamber musician, he performed with the Budapest, Fine Arts, Gordon, and Chicago Symphony string quartets, as well as the Chicago Symphony Chamber Players.
As reported in his obituary in the Chicago Tribune, “It was while directing the Oak Park–River Forest group that he gained an unusual measure of national attention. He briefly became an icon of the fledgling civil rights movement in 1963, when he resigned from the community orchestra because it would not allow a Black violinist he had invited to perform with the group.” (More information can be found here.)
Preves died at the age of ninety on June 11, 2000, following a long illness. Shortly thereafter, his family began donating materials to the Rosenthal Archives, establishing his collection of correspondence, contracts, photographs, scrapbooks, programs, and recordings. Most recently, his children donated additional photographs, mostly portraits of music directors and guest conductors, all autographed and dedicated to Preves. A sample of that collection is below.



















In October 1984, on the occasion of Milton Preves’s fiftieth anniversary with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, fellow viola Isadore Zverow (1909–1999) composed this poem to honor his colleague:
It’s no mean feat, without retreat
To hold the forte so long,
To stroke and pluck in cold and heat—
All to produce a song.
Toward music bent, with single intent,
Unyielding dedication,
You of yourself so gladly lent
Your valued perspiration.
You sat and played and marked and bowed
And sometimes e’en reproached
And sometimes we squirmed (just a bit)
We didn’t wanna be coached.
And yet whene’er the chips were down
Throughout these fifty anna,
Your steadfast presence was a crown
Aiming at Nirvana.
This article also appears here.
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“In 1953, I made my first visits to the United States. Interestingly enough, given the turn my career eventually took, my North American debut was originally scheduled to take place at the Ravinia Festival . . . with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. But my U.S. visa application was turned down. The American consul in Frankfurt kindly explained that my visa had been denied because I was listed as belonging to the Soviet Friendship Association, a Communist organization. I couldn’t understand how this could be, as I had never belonged to any political group.
“Fortunately, I knew a Dr. Müller, the Minister of Internal Affairs, and he telephoned the police in Munich to authorize them to show me the document. This document turned out to be a list, prepared by this Communist organization, of prominent non-Communists in cultural life who were to have propaganda material sent to them. With that information in hand, I went back to Frankfurt and explained to the American consul that the list they had seized was not a list of members of the Communist party, but merely a mailing list of people in cultural life. . . . Indeed, in the late 1940s, representatives of the U.S. military government in Bavaria had informed me that if I wanted to maintain my position in Munich, I would have to give up my Hungarian citizenship; by then, Hungary had become a Soviet satellite state. I was not sad about renouncing my original nationality, but being stateless for the next few years presented endless bureaucratic complications. In the end, the West German government kindly offered me German citizenship, which I gratefully accepted, and I remained a German national for nearly twenty years.
“Eventually, I got my U.S. visa, but it came so late that I had to cancel my Ravinia engagement. However, my American debut took place . . . when I conducted the San Francisco Opera.”*

The advance program advertisement in the Ravinia Festival program book during the first week of July 1953
Programs for that week’s concerts were revised. Otto Klemperer, who had conducted the previous week, stayed over for the July 14 and 16 concerts (ironically, according to the advertisement: “one critic, after Solti’s appearance with the Vienna Philharmonic, called him ‘a young Klemperer'”). Pierre Monteux, scheduled for the following week, arrived early to lead the July 18 and 19 performances.
*Text excerpted from Memoirs by Sir Georg Solti.