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By Olga Fyodorova
On a late autumn night of 1945 there was a young man in a military greatcoat
walking down the street in the Volga city of Nizhny Novgorod. Suddenly
he saw a group of people bustling around a food kiosk a dozen or so meters
ahead. “Thieves!” the man thought and, a second later, a boy hiding up
in the tree right overhead, gave out an ear-splitting “Take off!” cry.
The man jumped up right in time to grab the seven or so year-old boy by
the collar.
“Freeze, you, little thief! Stop biting! See my hands? They
are big and strong, you’ve got no chance, pal!”
“Let me go, mister, please! I’ll never do it again, I swear!
I didn’t steal anything! Where are you dragging me?! Don’t take me to the
police, please! I’ve got no parents, Dad was killed in the war and Mom
got lost in evacuation… Maybe she’s dead too… I don’t want to go to the
orphanage! Let me go, please, please!”
“Stop crying your lungs out, will you!? I’m not taking you
anywhere. Relax! With a great voice like this, you should be singing on
stage!”
“Sing? Are you kidding? Where, with the Gypsies? I already
did once, but ran away…”
“No, in a boy’s choir! There is one in town where boys like
you study, sing and live together. I’m Valery Malyshev, their
director. Fought in the war… Still wearing this greatcoat, you see? The
boys there are like you, most of them are orphans. What’s your name, by
the way?”
“Lyovka… That’s how they all call me here. Lyovka Sivukhin...”
“When you grow up they will say: here is Lev Sivukhin performing
today…”
“What am I going to be then?”
“A musician… Maybe a singer, or a conductor, or a choirmaster,
it all depends… And what would you like to be, eh?”
“A commander…”
“Well, then that’s what you are gonna be…”
Lev Sivukhin did become a commander. First in his class where
he was a hands down leader, and then at the conservatory were he was at
the top of his class…
Still a student, Lev set up his own choir, first as a teacher,
then a choirmaster. He eventually took over as the choir’s director and
artistic director after Valery Malyshev’s early death in 1966.
Just like in his child years, he was spending all his time
with the choir where rehearsals started at 9 o’clock in the morning. From
there he moved on to one-on-one conducting lessons and in the evening,
there was another rehearsal or concert to wrap up the day…
He always came to rehearsals smartly dressed. They always
started off with a warm up and he liked watching the boys’ voices opening
up right before his eyes. Working with a choir, he never used notation
knowing all his scores by heart. Each wrong note made his face twitch and,
red-faced, he started fuming and venting his indignation he never managed
to hold back…
Scared out of their wits, the boys stared at the man who was
more than just an excellent conductor and no-nonsense director – he was
a beloved friend and they would never offend a friend… That’s why they
tried hard to please this wonderful man who was such a good singer and
conductor, played football and hockey so well and was so happy about every
little success they made…
In 1969 Lev Sivukhin decided to set up a chamber choir.
The male section would consist of grown up boys and the girls’ section
to be made up of students from his conservatory class. After a series
of successful concerts and a triumphal performance at an international
competition, the choir was given a professional status. Which means that
Lev Sivukhin now had two top-flight choirs, which sometimes performed together.
By the start of the 1970s, Sivukhin was already a major authority,
both in his hometown where he enjoyed a hero’s status and elsewhere in
Russia. His choirs were invited to take part in the most prestigious
events one could only dream of…
The proud holder of all imaginable awards and decorations,
Lev Sivukhin, just like any other artist, cherished the love and appreciation
of his listeners who packed concert halls each time his choir appeared
on stage.
During the late 1980s Lev Sivukhin was elected rector of the
Nizhny Novgorod Conservatory. Always eager to be a commander, he was very
flattered but eventually succumbed under the heavy burden his new responsibilities
entailed…
Hating to get sucked into the old faculty intrigues, he was
still unable to avoid being enmeshed in bureaucratic politics, especially
given the sorry state of the conservatory’s building, which badly needed
repairs. The Culture Ministry refused to line up the needed funds and,
unable to find sponsors, Sivukhin lay awake nights imagining that the conservatory
roof was caving in and the Professors were killing one another in duels.
Shortly after, his heart started to fail under the pressure and, heeding
his doctors’ advice, he eventually stepped down…
Plunging himself fully into choir work, Lev Sivukhin led his
outfits to the very top of prestigious international competitions winning
invitations to sing in Europe and America.
He was also holding seminars for hundreds of choirmasters
flocking in from all across Russia and from other countries too. Some of
them were seasoned professionals and Sivukhin gave them a chance to showcase
their abilities. The moment he took up the baton conducting a choir of
his fellow colleagues, however, the magic began with the singers’ hearts
quickening and their voices changing their pitch at the slightest movement
of his hand…
The life of every famous musician is scheduled for years ahead
and Lev Sivukhin’s was no exception. Early on December 11, 2001 he, as
usual, left home on his way to a rehearsal. During the day he worked
with a chamber choir and symphony orchestra getting ready for a concert
slated for later in the day. At five p.m. he came to his office for a few
minutes’ rest. Suddenly, his heart ached and, a moment later, it was all
over…
Lev Sivukhin died in that same office where Valery Malyshev
once dragged him in and where he had spent all his life, eventually growing
to a world-acclaimed master…
Within minutes, the sad news of Lev Sivukhin’s death reached
all parts of this country. Grieving friends and fans arrived in their thousands
to pay their last respects to the deceased Maestro and there was an unusually
big choir singing with clockwork precision as mourners filed past his casket…
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