visa. He was rejected for the U.S. Army, and in 1944 became conductor of the New Orleans Symphony Orchestra, where he remained for eight years. He returned to Cuba in 1945 to marry Nena. In 1952 he left New Orleans for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. Freccia made his London debut in October 1954 with the London Philharmonic Orchestra (LPO) in the Royal Festival Hall, conducting the British premiere of Samuel Barber's oratorio Prayers of Kierkegaard. This had not been a success at its American premiere, but Freccia had liked it and persuaded Barber to revise and cut it. The composer told him: "It's practically your work." Freccia returned to London for several years as guest conductor of the LPO, the Philharmonia, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (RPO) and the BBC Symphony Orchestra. In 1959 Freccia returned to Italy for six years as conductor of the RAI Orchestra. During that time he twice conducted concerts for Pope John XXIII. Freccia made some international tours, conducting in Japan in 1967 and then in Australia. In later years he conducted frequently in Monte Carlo. For four years he conducted concerts with the Juilliard Orchestra in New York. He returned to Vienna in 1981 to conduct the Radio Orchestra and conducted the RPO in London in 1983 and 1986 in concerts for the RAF Benevolent Fund. His last London appearance was on 15 June 1987, when he conducted Verdi's Requiem at the Festival Hall in the presence of Diana, Princess of Wales in commemoration of the 30th anniversary of Toscanini's death. Freccia lived in London for many years. His last concert was in 1998 when, at the age of 92, he conducted Beethoven's Ninth Symphony in the square at Montepulciano. He made fine recordings of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique with the RPO, and Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony with the LPO, as well as several discs of the Russian and Italian repertoire. He accompanied soloists such as Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli and Earl Wild in the piano concerto repertoire. Massimo Freccia published an autobiography, The Sounds of Memory, in 1990 when he was 84, in which he expressed candid views on other conductors. Most of them, he wrote, were too conceited, mistrustful and even occasionally vicious. Sir Thomas Beecham, for instance, "emphasised his pomposity" by his poses and pretensions. "Not once have I been touched by his performances. I always found his artistry superficial." Herbert von Karajan was "not