PORTLAND, OR — Carlos Kalmar, the Uruguayan-born conductor with Viennese training, has had a profound and complex relationship with the Oregon Symphony, marked by artistic achievements and internal controversies. As he returns for the first time since the CIM controversy as Music Director Laureate to conduct the "Schumann 4: From Sorrow to Ecstasy" program from March 15th to 17th, questions arise about the motivations behind his continued association with the orchestra: Is it rooted in loyalty, or does it stem from a culture of fear and intimidation?
Kalmar’s reappearance follows last years Title IX investigation at the Cleveland Institute of Music (CIM), where he served as principal conductor. The investigation, while concluding without finding violations, spurred student protests and a defamation lawsuit filed by Kalmar against CIM, claiming damage to his reputation. For many in Portland and beyond, the question lingers: What does this mean to the Oregon Symphony, and how does it impact them?
A Tenure Marked by Transformation — and Turmoil
Kalmar’s arrival at the Oregon Symphony in 2003, following the revered tenure of James DePreist, brought both heightened artistic ambition and internal conflict. Under DePreist’s leadership, the orchestra grew from a part-time ensemble to a fully professional institution known for its warmth and community ties. Kalmar’s vision was different: rigorous, exacting, and unapologetically ambitious. His programming, often praised for its innovation, challenged musicians and audiences alike with lesser-known works and complex repertoire. But this pursuit of excellence was not without cost. In 2005, Kalmar issued a scathing assessment of principal flutist Dawn Weiss’s performance, citing deficiencies in technical execution, pitch control, and sound quality. Despite extensive efforts by Weiss to meet Kalmar’s demands — including coaching, technique alterations, and over $12,000 in personal investments — her contract was not renewed, ending a 27-year career with the orchestra.
“Carlos wants to dismantle the woodwind section, and he went ‘eeney, meeney, miney, moe’ and picked me,” Weiss told The Oregonian in 2005. “He doesn’t like working with older people, anyone who looks old, looks tired, looks sickly or talks in a way that challenges his 100 percent authority. I’m the unruly weed that keeps coming up.”
The dismissal, rare in the orchestral world, ignited a debate about the balance between artistic standards and humane management. In an article by Bill Donahue in The Monthly Portland titled The Maestro (circa 2009) captures statements about Kalmar's behavior and the effect it had on musicians and the cultural at the Oregon Symphony. The statements in the article read:
“I didn’t like him from the moment I met him,” says Kenneth Shirk, then-secretary/treasurer for the American Federation of Musicians, Local 99, in Portland. “He’s an old-school aristocratic conductor. He kind of thinks of the musicians as parts of his body. They all need to respond to the synapses firing in his brain, and he prefers to work with younger musicians who follow his directions.” In October 2005, Kalmar grew impatient with his principal flutist, 53-year-old Dawn Weiss, a 27-year symphony veteran. According to The Oregonian, Kalmar “informed her that her playing was unacceptable,” and gave her six months to change her playing style, after which he would decide if she could stay. In April 2006, Kalmar took a measure almost unheard-of in the polite world of classical music—he fired Weiss. “That was not a gentle move,” Shirk says, “and six other musicians also left, voluntarily.” Sixty-eight-year-old Fred Sautter, a trumpet player, says his 2006 retirement from the symphony had nothing to do with Kalmar, but he adds that the conductor caused “great trauma” in the orchestra and proved himself “adolescent-like and insecure.”
Loyalty or Fear?
Kalmar’s admiration for Yevgeny Mravinsky (also stated in the The Maestro article) — the mid-20th-century Russian conductor known for his austere and commanding style — offers insight into his own approach to leadership. Kalmar has spoken approvingly of Mravinsky’s ability to instill fear in his musicians to elicit precision and intensity. “When you watch Mravinsky on YouTube,” Kalmar once told The Portland Monthly, “he’s barely moving. His face is calm, and yet — oh my God, the orchestra is playing like crazy. I think the musicians are scared shitless.”
This method stands in stark contrast to the evolving norms in classical music, where intimidation is indicative of a hostile environment that stunts musical expression. Collaborative leadership and community engagement are increasingly seen as vital to an orchestra’s relevance and survival, especially after the social justice-based #MeToo movement, and John Eliot Gardiner's behavior displayed this past year.
James DePreist’s legacy, by contrast, was one of civic engagement. During his tenure, DePreist served on advisory boards and championed efforts to attract new and younger audiences to classical music. Kalmar’s limited residence in Portland, coupled with a perceived detachment from community and fundraising activities drew criticism. “Kalmar isn’t committed to the city (despite living there),” one critic told Portland Monthly. “He’s blasé about fundraising. He wasn’t even in town this June when the Oregon Symphony announced a proposal to cut each musician’s salary by $10,000.”
If the Oregon Symphony knew of these sentiments about Kalmar's leadership and the deeply traumatic effect he had on musicians, why did they offer him the title of Music Director Laureate after leaving, and then invite him back after even further controversy centered around his leadership style occurred? Is it a gesture of loyalty or fear?
Loyalty and fear represent two of the most powerful forces that can shape an institution’s decisions—especially in the world of classical music, where leadership dynamics can be deeply entrenched.
Loyalty comes into play when an organization values a leader’s artistic contributions, legacy, or tenure enough to overlook past controversies.
Fear, on the other hand, can manifest in different ways: fear of disrupting the status quo, fear of backlash from influential supporters and donors, or fear of confronting uncomfortable truths about leadership culture.
It’s not a rigid either/or choice, but to frame the broader question: Is the Oregon Symphony standing by Kalmar because they truly believe in his leadership, or because challenging his return would be too costly?
The reality is likely more complex, but these two forces—loyalty and fear—are often at the heart of institutional decisions.
The CIM Controversy and Its Implications
Kalmar’s return to the Oregon Symphony this coming week comes at a fraught moment after last year's controversy at the Cleveland Institute of Music where students protesting what they described as a toxic environment under his leadership. While the Title IX investigation ultimately cleared him of violations, the climate of fear reported by students and faculty has left lasting questions about his suitability for leadership roles. Kalmar’s subsequent lawsuit against CIM has only deepened the divide.
For those who spoke out at CIM, the Oregon Symphony’s decision to welcome Kalmar back may send an unsettling message: that institutional loyalty to powerful figures often outweighs the concerns of those who challenge them. Even after the violations were cleared, the students were still harshly condemned as a mob despite risking their future careers by speaking out. The juxtaposition of Kalmar’s legal actions against CIM with his warm reception in Portland suggests a reluctance within the classical music establishment to reckon with the implications of his leadership style.
Reckoning with the Past, Facing the Future
Kalmar’s history with the Oregon Symphony is a tapestry woven with artistic brilliance and contentious leadership. As he takes the stage once again, the organization faces a profound dilemma: how to honor the contributions of a conductor whose exacting standards undeniably raised the orchestra’s artistic profile, while addressing the darker aspects of his tenure that may have left a residue of fear and resentment.
In an era when orchestras across the country are striving to modernize, diversify, and engage more deeply with their communities, the Oregon Symphony’s decision to continually bring back Kalmar may ultimately reveal more about the institution’s values and vision for the future than any single performance ever could.
For now, the music will play on, but the questions remain — unresolved, dissonant, echoing long after the final note fades. (c) Harpsichords & Hot Sauce, 2025
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