Sour Notes

"He's the concertmaster of the Cleveland Orchestra and an amazing teacher," says Susan Schwartz, spokeswoman for the Cleveland Institute of Music. "That's an amazing draw."

Students worshiped him as well.

"He's just a charming, witty guy," says former student Josh Roman, who would time his cigarette breaks to coincide with Preucil's. "We used to sit around and listen to his recordings all the time in the dorm."

Unlike many orchestra members, Preucil traveled by himself on tours, leaving his wife and young child at home in Cleveland. To keep himself busy during the two-week stretches, he'd spend nights playing poker.

The Cleveland Orchestra has long been praised for its artistry and precision. In 1994, Time magazine declared it "the best band in the land," and in 2005, The New Yorker proclaimed the orchestra "the finest in America."

Cleveland, however, runs its operations differently than most top-flight orchestras -- especially in regard to auditions. In most other cities, a screen is erected between player and judge to ensure an unbiased opinion of the playing.

"Having a screen forces [judges] to be much more objective," says Ariane Todes, editor of The Strad magazine, the bible of the violin industry. "It's the most fair way to listen to anyone and evaluate them."

In Cleveland, however, the directors claim there's no need for a screen.

"It's always been that way," says Hanson, the executive director. "The quality of our orchestra is the best argument for the success of our audition process."

But experts say that without a screen, it's much easier for judging to become corrupt. And since William Preucil has come on staff, some orchestra members say that's exactly what happened. His sister, brother-in-law, and daughter have all won coveted spots in the orchestra. Preucil sits on the audition committee at every violin tryout and has never recused himself.

"It's an abuse of power" when relatives are allowed to judge each other, says violist Eliesha Nelson.

In 1997, Preucil's brother-in-law, Steve Rose, was the first Preucil family member to receive a spot in the orchestra. Later, Preucil pushed for Rose to receive the position of associate concertmaster, members claim. In meetings with other members of the judging committee, Preucil trashed other candidates for the job and claimed he couldn't work with anyone but Steve.

"It was complete character assassination," says violinist Lev Polyakin.

Rose didn't get the part of associate concertmaster, but he did earn a coveted spot as principal second violin, a prestigious position that comes with a salary increase and an automatic seat on the audition committee. The Preucils now had two seats on the judging panel, which typically consists of between 5 and 10 members.

In 1998, a free spot opened up in the violin section for the orchestra's China tour. Without calling for an open casting, the position automatically went to Preucil's younger sister, Jeanne -- Rose's wife -- despite the fact that she was not a member of the orchestra.

Members were outraged. "She went on a tour just because she was a sister of Preucil," says Polyakin. This was Preucil's way of getting his sister an advantage in future auditions. "Once she had one leg in, it was easy to get the other one in too," Polyakin adds.

In January 1999, Jeanne was granted a full-time position in the orchestra.

Orchestra members began whispering about nepotism. The cries became more pronounced, however, when Preucil's oldest daughter, Lexi, auditioned.

A reedy girl with her father's eyes and her mother's grace, Lexi had recently graduated from the Cleveland Institute of Music. In her studies, she'd showed promise as a violinist, though she'd never performed with a major orchestra outside of Cleveland.

Preucil's daughter, along with twenty-some other musicians, auditioned for an open seat. Her tryout was judged by both father and uncle. Despite her youthfulness and inexperience, she was one of just six hopefuls to advance to the final round -- even though she was one of the least impressive applicants, according to one member.

Ultimately, Lexi wasn't given the spot, but her father has nonetheless found ways to get her onstage. On last summer's European tour, Lexi was asked to fill the seat of a senior member out on maternity leave, leapfrogging more experienced members and outside performers for the prestigious position.

"It obviously has a high level of unfair written all over it," says one member of the orchestra, who asked not to be named for fear of retribution from Preucil.

Preucil, for his part, denies that he has any influence over the selection process.