In a northwest suburban mansion adorned with oil paintings by Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec, a dozen or so listeners sip champagne and whisper to one another as a 25-year-old violinist plays a mini-recital.

Unlike most audiences, however, these listeners have paid nothing to hear the violin phenom, while the violinist himself has paid thousands for the privilege of giving the performance. The young man, whose fiery playing quickly establishes his credentials as an emerging virtuoso, paid for round-trip airfare from his home in New York, accommodations in Chicago and other costs.

This-as well as additional fees totaling thousands of dollars a year-is the price of borrowing a great violin from The [unnamed society], which the Chicago violin dealership [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] established in 1987.

Though conceived as a way to help young artists use multimillion-dollar fiddles, the society also attests to the skewed economics and extreme imbalance of power in today's rare violin trade, with wealthy investors and dealers firmly in control of the world's greatest instruments and rising young musicians beholden to them.

In an era when speculators have helped catapult the price of some violins into the seven-figure range, gifted musicians must cater to rich patrons and powerful dealers simply to gain temporary use of the tools of their craft. And with the values of rare instruments going in only one direction-skyward-musicians at all stages of their careers increasingly will find themselves in the same spot as the young [unnamed society] musicians.

"It's a privilege to play a violin like this-it's a life-altering experience," said Soovin Kim, who flew from the Manhattan apartment he shares with two others to entertain the Galvins and their social circle. He played a 1735 Guarneri del Gesu known as the "Sennhauser," on loan from The [unnamed] Society.

"But these instruments are getting so expensive," added Kim, "that pretty soon no musician will be able to afford them, and everyone will have to borrow the way I do."

Although The [unnamed society] has put top-rank instruments into the hands of such rising stars as Midori and Joshua Bell, the players pay dearly in dollars and in the emotional toll of serving at the beck and call of the lenders, as required by the rules of The [unnamed society].

Told to curry favor with the wealthy owner of the instrument he is borrowing and instructed to promote The [unnamed society] wherever they perform or record, the young borrowers become international marketing tools for [unnamed Chicago violin dealer]. At the same time, the players serve as potential customers for [unnamed Chicago violin dealer], who encourage the musicians to buy costly bows and other paraphernalia from the dealership. As a result, some of the players feel pressured by the dealers, whose support they need to win future loans of superb instruments.

Compared to the venerable British violin firms that have been in the rare instrument trade for centuries, [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] are relative newcomers, having gone into business in the mid-1970s. But the Chicagoans quickly established themselves among the most commercially successful dealerships in the world.

Through its [unnamed society], [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] has placed itself at the fulcrum of the rare violin trade, with brilliant but financially hard-pressed young violinists on one side, wealthy investors on the other, and the dealership controlling the flow of instruments between the two.

These gifted young artists know that a career as a concert soloist cannot be built with an inferior or mediocre instrument. Because the young artists in The [unnamed society] are trying to reach the pinnacle of their profession-which means playing solo performances as well as concertos with great orchestras around the world-they require instruments of comparable stature.

"I know of young violinists who are absolutely brilliant but don't come from families wealthy enough to afford a great instrument," said dealer Dietmar Machold, speaking in his plush Vienna shop, two blocks from the Vienna State Opera.

"Their careers go nowhere. With a lesser instrument, they go to play a concerto, they cannot be heard with the orchestra roaring behind them, and the review comes out the next day saying that their sound is small or unappealing."

Indeed, at least since the heyday of Niccolo Paganini, the legendary 19th century virtuoso, old Italian instruments have been de rigueur for concert violinists. Today, most experts concur that the antique fiddles produce a more sonorous tone, a wider range of timbre, a more penetrating high register and more luxuriant low notes than their modern-day counterparts. But emerging violinists typically lack the funds to purchase treasured old instruments worth six or seven figures, and the youngsters realize that The [unnamed society] affords them a rare opportunity to play otherwise unattainable Amati, Stradivari and Guarneri del Gesu fiddles.

[unnamed Chicago violin dealer] promotes The [unnamed society] in grandiloquent terms, likening it to the Medici family of the Italian Renaissance, which generously nurtured literature and the arts.

"The philosophy of patronage-as practiced by the Medicis and other great individuals and families through history-enabled the arts to flourish in the past," notes a [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] publication. "This noble practice is thriving today at The [unnamed society]."

But unlike other organizations in the United States and Europe that lend instruments to gifted young players, The [unnamed society] is strictly a for-profit venture that helps [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] sell high-priced instruments, advertise its shop and win favorable publicity. Though The [unnamed society] was launched in 1987 as a not-for-profit organization, [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] dropped the non-profit status and now operates the society as a part of its dealership.

For the investor, The [unnamed society] offers a chance to brush up against tomorrow's musical stars, to decide who gets an instrument and who doesn't, and to host intimate musical gathering for a small circle of friends.

"I believe we have helped many young players," said Mary Galvin.

At night, it's almost impossible to find the sprawling Galvin estate. Nestled in dense woods and surrounded by the dimly lit streets of a rustic, northwest suburban enclave, the manor is all but cut off from the world around it.

On this evening, the Galvins have gathered friends in the family's living room, an opulent space fitted with centuries-old wood paneling imported from a chateau in France. As the primary sponsor of The [unnamed society], Galvin has purchased several precious instruments and helped decide which budding virtuosos were granted the privilege of borrowing them.

After gracious introductory remarks by Robert Galvin, violinist Soovin Kim steps in front of the grand piano, places the inimitable 1735 Guarneri del Gesu under his chin and begins to play vignettes by Henryk Wieniawski and Fritz Kreisler, among others. The violin sounds lustrous in this intimate room, more plush in tone than anything one might hear in a cavernous downtown concert hall. "I don't go to Orchestra Hall anymore," said [unnamed Chicago violin dealer]after the private recital, which his [unnamed society] organized. "This is the way to hear music."

Moreover, this world of privilege makes The [unnamed society] possible. When [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] has a valuable fiddle to sell, the firm approaches a wealthy patron such as Mary Galvin and recommends that the instrument be placed in The [unnamed society]. If the client decides to do so, he or she enjoys several enticing benefits. For starters, all insurance and maintenance fees for the instrument are paid by the young musician borrowing the instrument.

Why don't the wealthy patrons pick up the tab?

"The amount is miniscule in relation to the gift-the artist should pay some amount of money," said [unnamed Chicago violin dealer], who added that the donor cannot deduct the expenses on taxes, while the musician can.

The [unnamed society] also requires three yearly maintenance checks on the instrument-at [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] Chicago office.

"I do not understand why you have to fly all the way to Chicago to get the violin checked out," said 21-year-old Munich violinist Daniel Roehn, who plays a [unnamed society] fiddle but does not yet command enough engagements to afford such trips.

[unnamed Chicago violin dealer]said that repairs must be done in his shop to protect the donor's investment in the violin.

Together, the insurance and maintenance costs run the young musicians several thousand dollars a year. For the wealthy owner, membership in The [unnamed society] offers an additional perk: The recipient of a [unnamed society] violin must play three free performances per year for the owner of the instrument or for the society. The young musician picks up expenses for travel, accommodations and accompanist.

"At one point, they tried to get me to play a concert in Egypt, and it was at a time when I don't think anybody wanted to go to Egypt, and I would have had to pay the expenses," said Elissa Koljonen, a former recipient of a [unnamed society] violin, who now lives in Philadelphia and enjoys a brisk career as a solo violinist.

Koljonen refused to go and does not know if this was a factor in The [unnamed society] asking her for the return of her instrument in 1997.

"When you have to add up the expenses of going to play these performances, and you're also paying the insurance on the instrument, it's a lot," she said. "But you can't complain."

This is literally true, for in The [unnamed society] Artists' Guide, [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] offers strict rules on what an artist can and cannot say. Specifically, the guidelines instruct the recipient to phone donors approximately every six weeks: "The [unnamed society] will keep track of these phone calls both to insure that they are made and to stay abreast of patrons' needs and wants. ...

"It is also important to note that these phone calls should consist of only `smooth seas and good sailing.' In other words, it is essential that the patrons not be exposed to any negativity or problems the recipient may be having. Exposing the patrons to any unnecessary details such as maintenance of the loan agreement or care of the instruments could compromise their involvement with the Society."

Corey Cerovsek, a prodigious violinist from Bloomington, Ind., learned that "smooth seas and good sailing" are not always guaranteed once an artist has joined The [unnamed society].

Four years ago, Cerovsek, who already was playing the "Sennhauser" Guarneri del Gesu on loan from The [unnamed society], asked to borrow a 1742 Guarneri del Gesu named for Henryk Wieniawski, one of the greatest virtuosos of the 19th century. Because Cerovsek had a contract to record music of Wieniawski, he thought it would be ideal to use the instrument for this CD, in 1997.

[unnamed Chicago violin dealer] agreed. "They said, `Fine, Mrs. Galvin said it's fine if you borrow it for two weeks,'" recalled Cerovsek, 28. "So I came up to Chicago, swapped the `Sennhauser' for the `Wieniawski' and left. I was playing the season-opening concerts for the San Francisco Symphony, so I went out to California.

"And on the day of my first performance with the symphony-Sept. 4, 1997-[unnamed Chicago violin dealer] calls to tell me he has to get the violin back immediately because he has a buyer somewhere in South America, and that he had another nice fiddle that he'd be happy to swap with me before the next concert.

"This was very traumatic, switching a violin the day of a concert and just before the performance," said Cerovsek, who, like most concert artists, needs to be familiar with the sonic capabilities and tonal nuances of a particular instrument before an important performance.

When Cerovsek received the call, "His eyes filled with tears," recalled his mother, Sophia, who had traveled from Bloomington to San Francisco to hear the concerts. "He pleaded with Mr. [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] up until the last moment to at least let him finish the San Francisco concerts with the instrument.

"When I came home to Bloomington," continued Cerovsek's mother, who had been corresponding with Mary Galvin, "I faxed her all about (what happened) in San Francisco, and all hell broke loose. Mrs. Galvin called me and said she was very upset, because she had given strict orders that the violin should not go on sale until Corey played it.

"She told me on the phone to tell Corey not to let the instrument out of his hands."

Thanks to Galvin's intervention, Cerovsek was able to keep the violin until last year.

Asked about Cerovsek's experience with The [unnamed society], [unnamed Chicago violin dealer]said that most of the artists appreciate the loans but that "a couple have a chip on their shoulders. It's hard to imagine they are being taken advantage of."

[unnamed Chicago violin dealer]added that although Cerovsek belonged to The [unnamed society], the "Wieniawski" violin technically was not listed in The [unnamed society] when Cerovsek first borrowed it.

But Galvin agreed with Cerovsek that he was not treated properly.

"I told Geoff [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] that it's not right to take the instrument away from Corey while he was using it," she said. "I think Corey Cerovsek has gotten disillusioned," Galvin added. "When we saw that he wasn't going to be the next Maxim Vengerov (a famous young Russian virtuoso), we took the `Wieniawski' away."

When a young musician has a [unnamed society] fiddle, he is required to tout the virtues of the [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] organization in media interviews. The violinists are instructed to "generously credit The [unnamed society] in every concert program, recording and any other form of media coverage," notes the Artist's Guide. "The type of generous credit we refer to means a paragraph or two about The [unnamed society], its goals, members, location and ways to get involved."

The [unnamed society] artists benefit [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] in another way, as well, for the young musicians can be developed as paying customers. Because no violinist can borrow a violin without [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] approval, the youngsters sometimes feel strong-armed into to buying products from the dealers.

"I remember being in the shop and trying a very expensive bow," recalled Koljonen, to whom the dealers tried to sell the high-priced accoutrements on several occasions. "I felt pressure being applied, and it made me uneasy."

Until May 1971, an owner of rare violins could not bank on getting rich quickly, if at all. The prices of even the best instruments were too low and the commissions too meager to serve anyone but hard-working shop owners who spent a lifetime selling fine instruments and beginner fiddles alike.

But the sale of the 1721 "Lady Blunt" Stradivari for $201,000, roughly three times the amount that experts expected it would fetch, showed that the values of rare fiddles were taking flight. With economically resurgent Europe and Japan entering a market that since WWII had been dominated by the United States, prices rocketed. The escalating values turned the world of rare fiddles upside down, with Stradivaris and Guarneris in play not only as concert instruments but also as investment vehicles.

Thus, in a new century, it isn't just the emerging, financially strapped young virtuosos who will find themselves beholden to affluent investors and international dealers.

"Today, the symphony players can't even afford violins by Bergonzi," said [unnamed Chicago violin dealer] partner, referring to a comparatively obscure Italian maker. "Even those instruments now are going for a million."

Meanwhile, the power of dealers and investors only will grow, thanks to the perpetually increasing demand and decreasing supply of the commodity they sell.

And organizations such as The [unnamed society], which wields its power over musicians without challenge, will loom large.

Said London violin dealer Peter Biddulph, "The [unnamed society] is brilliant, a really brilliant way of selling violins."

---

(c) 2001, Chicago Tribune.

Visit the Chicago Tribune on the Internet at http://www.chicago.tribune.com/

Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services.

-----

PHOTOS (from KRT Photo Service, 202-383-6099).