Arturo Toscanini - Tyranny in a Magnificent Form

Arturo Toscanini, through the first half of the twentieth century, was considered by many to be the greatest of the great conductors. His personal orchestra, the NBC Symphony Orchestra, made many recordings which to this day are considered legendary.
His methodology might not be acceptable today; namely, the fear that he instilled in the musicians who played under him. A distant relative of mine, whom I met only once, and who played oboe under Toscanini, verified the reality of the nature of this great conductor.
His temper was, at times, so corrosive and explosive, primarily during rehearsal periods, that these accomplished musicians, each with a mind of his own, was  ultimately molded by sheer force of will into the shape of the conductor's goal of the moment.
I can, and probably will relate some of the stories of terror projected by Toscanini, all of which are documented.
However, allow me to tell you of an incident which represents his temper:
This occurred during the Second World War, at a rehearsal of a Beethoven sonata for violin and piano, in a large room set aside for Yehudi Menuhin, the eminent violinist, and Toscanini, who was a superb pianist.
The piano was a small studio-sized instrument, and Menuhin stood to the right of the piano bench occupied by Toscanini.
The rehearsal began, and all things were going smoothly, when a telephone on the far wall began to ring.
The two musicians continued playing, while the phone continued to ring.
Menuhin recounts that while they were performing and the telephone ringing went on, he looked down at Toscanini, and noted that the Maestro's complexion slowly went from normal pink to ruddy red, and the veins on the right side of his neck were beginning to show. Menuhin also noted that the pitch of the telephone ring was totally foreign to any of the notes in the sonata.
The playing and the ringing continued a while longer, when suddenly, with a roar, Toscanini sprang from the bench (he was well in his seventies at the time), ran across the large room , reached out for the ringing telephone, and ripped it out of the wall.
I have no further information; for instance, did the rehearsal continue, or did Toscanini storm out of the room? I do not know.
I wonder if a twenty-five year old Adonis, with a thirty inch waist, and biceps rivaling the circumference of an oak tree, could have replicated that which Toscanini did on that day?