Maestro Nelsons’ fans are having their revenge at his ouster.

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Yet the board’s own actions have had the opposite effect, with fund-raising plunging since the announcement.

Turns out that many donors don’t want to open their wallets for an organization that disrespects its musicians, jettisons a Grammy-winning conductor with little explanation other than he “wasn’t aligned on future vision,” and heaps vitriol on nameless BSO personnel as if they were some kind of fifth column.

“The pattern they follow is very clear, the memo stated, “they will use any means at their disposal to thwart efforts aimed at reversing the BSO’s long downward spiral of declining classical audiences and persistent budget deficits and at making the BSO a more welcoming and inclusive place.”

The memo just happened to be sent on the day contract negotiations began between BSO musicians and management.

A memo sent the following day to all BSO staff — and then rescinded 30 minutes later — contained an extra helping of recrimination. It blamed those same nameless culprits who had worked to get rid of previous orchestra CEO Gail Samuel, Hostetter’s first import from the Los Angeles Philharmonic, for “now attempting to undermine and discredit” current CEO Chad Smith, her second LA import.

The board has become adept at finger-pointing, less adept at attempting to calm the maelstrom it touched off.

The State of the BSO memo calls for “[m]assive amounts of new philanthropy — potentially hundreds of millions of dollars — to finance renovations, build the endowment, and fund a marquee educational program.”

In fact, the acoustically splendid Symphony Hall is, well, shabby. It will never match up to the stunning Disney Concert Hall used by the LA Philharmonic, but it could at least aspire to be as charming and comfortable as the venue enjoyed by the Cleveland Orchestra, which underwent a $36 million renovation in 2000.

Needed renovations to Symphony Hall and Tanglewood have been estimated at a combined $100 million, about evenly divided between the two venues.

As for “building the endowment,” well the BSO’s more than $600 million endowment is already the largest of any symphony orchestra in the country. And a recent analysis of 13 years’ worth of its IRS filings by Candenza.work, a website run by and for musicians, found that for every $1 drawn from the endowment to cover deficits, investments produced $1.80.

As for the memo’s contention that 90 percent of the endowment is restricted, well, let’s not forget that some “restrictions” often cover the cost of those many “endowed chairs,” such as the Charles Munch chair endowed “in perpetuity” for the orchestra’s concertmaster. So the restricted part of the endowment is, in fact, used to cover what in any other operation would be personnel costs.

Increasing revenues from the sale of subscriptions, individual ticket sales, and amenities would surely help the BSO’s bottom line. So too would more robust fund-raising, which has been lagging in recent years and now has virtually stopped.

If the BSO needs a role model, perhaps it should stop looking to LA, with its shiny new concert hall, plus its outdoor 17,000-seat Hollywood Bowl and a huge population center from which to draw patrons and donors. Instead it might look to Cleveland, which also ranks among the nation’s Big Five orchestras.

Cleveland ended its ’24-25 season with a modest surplus, its seventh consecutive break-even season. It is consistently rated among the best orchestras in the nation. It’s so open and transparent — not to mention proud — about its expenses and its finances that it puts it all, including its audited financials, on its website. It also runs by all accounts splendid education programs and has a digital streaming platform.

Oh, and its world-famous conductor, Franz Welser-Möst, will be stepping down from the podium next year, ending a 25-year career with an orchestra and an audience that seem to adore him.

Cleveland represents everything an orchestra can aspire to — creative outreach and stability at the podium without the drama or the angst.

Andris Nelsons doesn’t handle the BSO’s books. He isn’t responsible for its marketing. And judging from a recent after-concert appearance in New York City, he’s certainly capable of charming the bejesus out of would-be donors — who have suddenly put their checkbooks away in the midst of this controversy. His musicians clearly adore him and the growing number of red roses on the lapels of BSO patrons attests to his fans in the audience.

A sensible board would recognize Nelsons isn’t the problem and try to patch things up while there’s still time. But then a sensible board wouldn’t have gotten itself into this mess in the first place.


Editorials represent the views of the Boston Globe Editorial Board. Follow us @GlobeOpinion.





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