Troy’s Hidden Treasure (April 1999 | Volume: 50, Issue: 2)

Troy’s Hidden Treasure

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Authors: David Lander

Historic Era: Era 10: Contemporary United States (1968 to the present)

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April 1999 | Volume 50, Issue 2

Troy, New York has always had its sleeves rolled up to its biceps. Lying along the Hudson River and part of a metropolitan area that includes both Albany, the state capital, and Schenectady, the city marks the Erie Canal’s eastern terminus. When that waterway was completed in 1825, Troy floated into an era of prosperity.

 
 

Troy was once a manufacturing center for iron products like stoves and horseshoes, but the city became nationally famous as the country’s leading maker of shirt collars and cuffs. Beer and beef were important local industries, and Troy was home to Samuel Wilson, who supplied the Army with meat during the War of 1812. Wilson stamped all government purchases “U.S.,” for United States, but the initials may also have stood for his nickname, Uncle Sam, which is why Troy claims to have spawned the mythic character. Troy had its gentry, of course, people who occupied the handsome townhouses that still line Washington Park, a fenced-in square reserved for the residents who live along its edges and have keys to its gate. In spite of such posh pockets, though, working-class homes and industrial buildings like the old Arrow shirt factory north of the Collar City Bridge typify Troy. For that reason visitors are often surprised to learn that the city houses one of the greatest concert halls in existence, an auditorium with acoustics so remarkable that it vies with Boston’s glorious Symphony Hall and the Grosser Musikvereinssaal in Vienna.

Notes played and sung in the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall, which sits atop the bank’s headquarters in the city’s downtown district, project throughout the space with a warmth and clarity that has astounded serious listeners and seasoned musicians alike. The conductor George Szell called it the best hall he ever played in and vowed to stand in front with arms outstretched if it was ever scheduled for demolition. The auditorium’s lush sound moved another great conductor, Dimitri Mitropoulos, to declare he would perform there free.

Shortly after the Civil War, the Troy Savings Bank needed a new home, and its board members decided on a building that would also include a community concert hall. Though such gestures were not unknown in Gilded Age America, this one was particularly grand. Those who attended the 1875 premiere sat beneath a lofty ceiling adorned with frescoes, and the chandelier crowning the space glittered with fourteen thousand hand-cut French prisms mirroring the light of 260 gas burners. (The city’s fire marshal ordered the last of those lamps removed in 1928 after a ballerina’s headdress burst into flames.)

George B. Post, the New York Clty architect who designed the hall, based it on similar European structures, and that was fortunate. Though the science of acoustics has advanced since then, the great nineteenthcentury halls often project sound better than their modern counterparts. Acoustical experts can point with certainty to traits that help make the Troy hall a sonic marvel. One is