Nobody really knew what he was doing, except it was told that the whole orchestra would not survive without him. There was no exchange of words with him that would leave some message one could retain, remember, or understand. He was quite talkative, and all his long sentences were nicely phrased, well grouped, and it was always nice to hear the timbre of his voice. His memos were beautifully written, crafted, some would say, they were well organized and even graphically placed on the page, so they always looked good. What he had to say would go above the head of the one he read it. “He must be very wise,” people kept saying.