Sir Malcolm Sargent breathed life into the BBC Proms. Yet for all his fame and fortune, says Andrew Green, the conductor\u2019s personality and music-making heavily divided opinion <\/p>
I<\/span><\/strong>n his day, no conductor enjoyed a higher public profile among British conductors than Malcolm Sargent.<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>\n \u2018Flash Harry\u2019, they called him. The exact provenance of the soubriquet is unclear, but it suited Sargent down to the ground. The snappy dressing, not least on the podium. The hair sleeked back. Carnation in buttonhole. The touch of showmanship about his conducting gestures. And the showman was a past master at orchestrating the applause he craved \u2013 not least from his beloved Albert Hall<\/a><\/strong> Promenaders.<\/span><\/p>\n There was flash and dash about Sargent\u2019s jam-packed diary, too, with ceaseless flitting round the UK and global jet-setting; regular excursions to the recording studio which reflected the appeal of the Sargent brand to discophiles; and frequent appearances as a vivacious, razor-sharp contributor to BBC Radio\u2019s panel show The Brains Trust<\/i> which made Sargent a household name.<\/span><\/p>\n These days, though, the full breadth of Malcolm Sargent\u2019s career tends to be disregarded in favour of the kind of labelling that\u2019s akin to libelling. Yes, he was unquestionably an exceptional choral conductor. Yes, he was just the man to re-popularise the Proms<\/a><\/strong> (through his association with the BBC Symphony Orchestra) after Henry Wood<\/a><\/strong>\u2019s death. And yes, he was a lifelong Gilbert & Sullivan<\/a><\/strong> exponent of wit and sparkle.<\/span><\/p>\nWhat was Sargent like as a person?<\/span><\/h2>\n