120th Anniversary: Remembering Nathan Milstein (1904-1992)
EDITOR'S NOTE: December 31 marks the 120th anniversary of the birth of the great violin virtuoso Nathan Milstein, who was born in Odessa and later became an American citizen. As a child, Robert Levin saw Milstein play live many times, then as a young man studied violin with him, and later spent time with him during the latter years of his life. In celebration of Milstein's upcoming birthday, here are his thoughts and remembrances of the great master.
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With the passing of Nathan Milstein in 1992, the era of great Russian violin playing came to an abrupt end. He was one of the 20th century’s greatest exponents of the violin, and although there are many fine violinists appearing before the public today, few, if any, begin to approach the purity, simplicity and elegance of Milstein’s patrician art. He was placed on this earth to play the violin - he was the consummate fiddle player.
Violinist Nathan Milstein.
I first heard Nathan Milstein in recital at Chicago’s Orchestra Hall in 1959 when I was a young boy of eight. His performances of Pergolesi, Beethoven, Bach, Brahms, Chopin, Sarasate and his own Paganiniana that Sunday afternoon have remained embedded in my heart and soul and will so forever. From that time until I left Chicago to study in New York City at The Juilliard School, I had the incredible good fortune to hear Milstein in recital and with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra every concert season.
BELOW: Nathan Milstein performing "Paganiniana."
He was truly a beloved musical figure in Chicago, and the much feared and highly respected Claudia Cassidy, the Tribune critic whose venomous pen destroyed many an artist’s career, absolutely adored him. I remember going backstage as a youngster after each performance, looking at this idol of mine, shaking hands with him, saying something truly profound like, "Congratulations, you played so beautifully," and wondering if I would ever achieve anything similar to his accomplishments on the violin. I never came close.
Milstein’s chief rival throughout most of his career in the United States was Jascha Heifetz. They were close in age and were both supreme masters of the great Russian school of violin playing as a result of their studies with Leopold Auer as well as other distinguished Russian pedagogues. Heifetz may have exhibited more imagination in his playing and his performances oftentimes had more of an individual stamp to them, but Milstein, every bit as great a violinist, was the purer of the two. Whereas Heifetz’s sound had an incredible edge and excitement to it, Milstein possessed a smooth and rich tone, not unlike biting into a delicious chocolate or touching a sensual piece of velvet. Although his sound was not huge as compared with many of today’s violin virtuosos, it nevertheless soared above and penetrated through all symphony orchestras. Milstein’s tone production, which was refined, focused and pure, was proof that it is not necessary to possess a thick, colorless sound in order to project and fill a two or three thousand seat concert hall.
There was absolutely nothing Milstein could not do on the violin, and he continued to play brilliantly well past the age of 80, a feat unprecedented in the history of violin playing. His own strong and highly individual personality was never allowed to interfere with the structure of the musical line. Architecture was everything to him, particularly in Bach but just as important in miniatures and encore pieces. This is something that is entirely missing in these modern times. One of my renowned Juilliard teachers, Dorothy DeLay, once told me in a lesson that Milstein’s Bach Sonatas and Partitas were "too old fashioned and outdated." When I asked Ms. DeLay whether or not Milstein’s Bach was a work of art, her response was "yes, of course." I then asked how a true work of art can ever be outdated or old-fashioned. To that there was no response, and things were never quite the same between us.
For those of us fortunate enough to have heard Milstein’s Bach in recital and to own both commercially recorded sets of his Sonatas and Partitas, particularly the earlier Capitol set, we know that this Bach playing is unequaled in its huge architecture, simplicity and simmering passion. Passion was not a word often used in describing Milstein’s playing, but that was only because his passion was controlled and never displayed in a vulgar and tasteless manner. His playing was sometimes misinterpreted as being aloof by unsophisticated listeners who were accustomed to the oftentimes overly sentimental playing exhibited by other great violinists of the day. Since Milstein’s death, several live recordings of Bach Sonatas and Partitas have been released on compact disc and they are all superb performances, played with a bit more abandon and excitement than his commercial recordings.
BELOW: Nathan Milstein plays Meditation from "Thais" by Massenet.
On a Friday afternoon in 1967 I heard Milstein perform Prokofiev’s Concerto in D Major with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra with Jean Martinon on the podium. At this point in his life he was suffering from bursitis and was not always playing up to his usual high standard. After the performance, I went backstage and found Milstein alone and obviously disturbed. He was upset because he had received negative criticism regarding his tone in the morning paper of his performance the night before. He asked me what I thought and if I agreed with the critic that his sound was scratchy and that it whistled too much. Here I was, 16 years old, and he was asking me what I thought of his playing. Of course, without any hesitation at all, I told him his performance was fantastic, but I knew from the look in his eyes that he did not believe me.
That same concert season, Milstein returned to Chicago for an Orchestra Hall recital with pianist Leon Pommers. Having studied the violin since the age of five and after winning first prize in several Chicago music competitions, I decided it was time for me to perform for my idol. I had been studying with the preeminent Ivan Galamian at the Meadowmount School of Music in upstate New York for several summers and I was convinced that all I wanted out of life was to become the next Nathan Milstein.
I remember, as if it were yesterday, finding the nerve to place the call to Milstein’s hotel (he always stayed at the Ambassador East in Chicago) from a pay telephone located in Highland Park High School, where I was a junior. Of course, I should have been in class, but, after all, what was more important, algebra or Milstein? Milstein answered the telephone and I reminded him that I was the young boy who always came backstage at Orchestra Hall for an autograph. I then asked him if he had time to listen to me play the violin. To my astonishment, he invited me to come downtown to his hotel the following afternoon.
I arrived at the Ambassador East Hotel in the late afternoon, the same hotel Alfred Hitchcock used in "North by Northwest," called upstairs and proceeded to Milstein’s room. I was rather startled by the unshaven and slightly unkempt man wearing glasses who opened the door and invited me in. I asked for Mr. Milstein, assuming that the person who greeted me was a relative, friend or hotel employee, and he replied, "I am Milstein." Up until that time, I had only seen him in the most elegant of concert attire on stage or back after a performance, and never before with glasses. One can imagine my complete surprise and total embarrassment at my faux pas. He was wearing a plaid shirt without tie, an open bottle of scotch was on the night table and he had been watching a western on television. I am not sure what the fascination with westerns was all about, but both he and his dear friend Vladimir Horowitz loved watching them. The aristocratic image of my hero was momentarily shattered.
He then asked me what I wanted to play, and I chose the first two movements of the E minor Mendelssohn Concerto. I had not prepared the last movement and, of course, that was what he decided he wanted to hear. I was so terribly nervous that I could hardly hold the bow steady and, needless to say, my playing was not so good. After about 15 minutes, Milstein decided to play a little something for me, to show me how the violin should be played and perhaps because he did not want his neighbors in the hotel to think what they had heard was from him.
Milstein played the entire Introduction and Tarantella by Sarasate, sitting on the edge of his bed holding the violin on his chest, slightly intoxicated. It was absolutely miraculous. I had never witnessed such ease of playing and fluidity of technique at such close proximity. His left hand could only be described as fluid drive and the legato playing in the Introduction and spiccato in the Tarantella were breathtaking and hair-raising. I stood beside him, stunned and speechless, realizing I would never achieve my goals and aspirations.
During my years at Juilliard, I went to every Milstein concert in and around New York City, and often traveled to Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, D.C. with friends to hear him. We were hungry to hear great violin playing, and Milstein was the last survivor of the century’s great violinists which included Zino Francescatti, Jascha Heifetz, Leonid Kogan, Fritz Kreisler, David Oistrakh, Joseph Szigeti and Oscar Shumsky (Milstein considered Oscar Shumsky to be the greatest of all American-born violinists).
I spent two summers studying with Milstein in Zurich along with my friend, Bruce Dukov, whom Milstein was very fond of and who served as concertmaster of the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra for many years. Mr. Dukov composed a set of variations on Happy Birthday for Milstein’s 80th birthday celebration at the Bohemian Club in New York City, and it was performed by such noted violinists as Itzhak Perlman, Glenn Dicterow, Erick Friedman, Daniel Heifetz and the composer. The work has since been published. Dukov, Milstein and I spent many an evening walking the streets of Zurich and dining at some of the city’s most exclusive and elegant restaurants. After dinner, we would go back to his hotel and sit in the lobby and listen to Milstein’s fantastic stories and anecdotes about other great musicians, many of which were less than kind, but always very humorous. Many conductors were referred to as shoemakers.
In 1973, the late Peter Mennin, who at the time was President of The Juilliard School, invited Milstein to give a series of master classes at the school. By that time, I had pretty much decided not to pursue a career as a concert violinist for purely practical reasons, and therefore did not actively participate. Some of my colleagues and friends, including Bruce Dukov, Ida Kavafian and Philip Setzer performed, but sadly, many wonderfully talented students did not participate and did not even attend the classes as observers. Apparently, some faculty members, including Ms. DeLay and Joseph Fuchs, discouraged their pupils from attending, perhaps because of their own insecurity, pettiness and jealousy.
Unfortunately, those pupils who did not take part in the classes were cheated out of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Milstein was a far better teacher than even he himself realized and just to watch him play was magical, enormously enlightening and life-changing. Those of us who did attend the classes were extremely embarrassed by the lack of turnout, but Milstein was not too terribly concerned or bothered. I recall him saying during the very first session in Paul Recital Hall, "Well, if nobody wants to play for me, I will go home and have tea." And that is precisely what he did.
One of the last Milstein recitals I heard was in Carnegie Hall. It was a wonderful recital and Milstein, in his eighties, was in terrific form. I shall never forget the beauty and charm of the last movement of the Franck Sonata, a work I had never heard him perform, and one which he never recorded commercially. He often spoke of playing and recording the sonata with Horowitz but it never came to pass (they did record Brahms Sonata No. 3 in D minor for RCA).
BELOW: Nathan Milstein and Vladimir Horowitz performing Brahms Violin Sonata No. 3, from June 1950.
Although it is true that many of his musical ideas for the Franck were unusual and very different from what most of us were accustomed to, here was an octogenarian playing a work he had not performed publicly for more than 40 years, experimenting with new and refreshing ideas, not all of which worked. It was the child in Milstein that kept him eternally young, in his playing and all throughout his life. He was constantly toying with new fingerings and bowings, experimenting with new ideas, inventing, composing, making jokes, fantasizing about being a politician or a conductor, most of whom he despised, and helping young aspiring concert violinists.
Nathan Milstein will never be replaced. He stood alone on the highest artistic and technical plateaus and was cherished by those who knew him and who understood his great art. Although he was never to achieve the household fame of Heifetz in America, in part because he shunned publicity, he was highly revered and considered to be the "King of Violinists" in Europe. He was, without question, Heifetz’s equal as a violinist, and in my opinion surpassed him as a musical intellect.
He has been eternalized by his legacy of recordings. Just listen to the phenomenal Capitol recordings of the concerti of Beethoven, Brahms, Bruch, Dvorak, Glazunov, Goldmark, Lalo, Mendelssohn, Mozart, Prokofiev, Saint-Saëns and Tchaikovsky, and the charming recordings of vignettes, masterpieces and encores. These performances are unequaled, and I am delighted that many of these recordings have once again surfaced on compact disc. Perhaps one of the most dazzling displays ever of sheer violin virtuosity is Milstein’s first commercial recording of his own Paganiniana. It is truly a marvel, and for those who would suggest that he did not have an exciting temperament or that he lacked passion, listen to this set of variations he composed utilizing several Caprices and other works of Paganini.
Milstein took America by storm with his performance of the Glazunov Concerto in Philadelphia in 1929, setting an almost unattainable standard of violin playing that he shared with his adoring public for over half a century. As is customary following the death of a great musician and artist, the recording companies released many of his long deleted recordings on compact disc, including many of the Columbia 78’s and early RCA LP’s. Two Library of Congress recitals from 1946 and 1953 were released and they are extraordinary examples of a master violinist in his absolute prime.
There have been numerous tributes and memorials since his death thirty-two years ago, but the greatest tribute of all that could be paid to Milstein would be for aspiring and established concert violinists to listen to and carefully study his great art and to carry on the tradition of this violinistic and musical giant, one of the greatest violinists of all time.
You might also like:
- Nathan Cole: Speed-dating a Strad: one week with Milstein's ex
- Happy 300th Birthday to the 'Milstein' Stradivarius!
- Discussion: Mystery solved: Nathan Milstein interview in The Way They Play
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Replies
Towering.
Hugh Bean told me that if he ever had to send a representative violin passage into space for the whole universe to hear it would be Milstein playing the slow theme from the Glazunov
It has become a little dangerous for me to listen to these days since it never fails to make my heart stand still.
I was in the audience for Mr. Milstein's last performance in Chicago (I believe he was 80). It was a recital, and one of the pieces was the Bach sonata with the chaconne. It was an incredible performance by any standard; it was truly the voice of Bach. Nathan Milstein was one of a kind.
I hate to quibble with such a lovely piece, but Oscar Shumsky lived about 8 years after Milstein passed away, and was still recording at the time of Milstein’s death, so it isn’t accurate to say Milstein was the last survivor of a group that contained his younger colleague.
I saw Milstein play the Tchaikovsky in San Francisco in the early 80s, and told my date if I practiced every day for the next 60 years, and didn’t get old…I still wouldn’t be as good !!
Dear Bill,
Thank you for your kind words about my Milstein article. While Oscar Shumsky was most certainly a great violinist and a disciple of the Russian school of violin playing, sadly, he never achieved the kind of notoriety as a soloist that he truly deserved. He did not have a performing or recording career anything to compare with Milstein, Heifetz, Oistrakh, Kogan, Szigeti or Francescatti. The fact that he may have made a few recordings and performed some concerts after Milstein's death does not place him in the same league, career wise, as the other violinists I mentioned in my article. So, while he may have carried on the Russian tradition of violin playing on some level after Milstein passed away, his concert career was nothing to compare with Milstein's career. My intention was to point out that Milstein was the last major concert violinist whose playing was a direct result of the great Russian tradition of violin playing.
Dear Mr. Levin:
Thank you for your heartfelt tribute to Nathan Milstein. I completely agree with your comments about Mr. Milstein's artistry, tone and technical prowess. In addition to the links you provide in the tribute, I recommend his recordings of the Saint-Saens, Dvorak, Glazunov, Bruch G minor, Prokofiev 1 & 2, and Goldmark violin concertos.
Mr. Levin, your tribute also brought back some wonderful memories. I was fortunate to attend some of Milstein's concerts. I saw him play the Glazunov and Bruch concertos in the same concert with the Philadelphia Orchestra at Carnegie Hall. I also caught his performance of several unaccompanied Bach Sonatas and Partitas, including Partita No. 2 (with the Chaconne) at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. These were spectacular performances.
Thank you again. Best regards,
-Charlie Flesch
Thank you for this fascinating and beautifully clear tribute to Milstein, Robert. The links are superb!
Milstein's 1963 Tchaikovsky concerto performance (with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under Walter Hendl) is superb. It's a studio recording and the acoustic is on the dry side but not badly so, and in fact it adds to the clarity of sound. The camera work is very good (YouTube). I can't call it the greatest of all time, as I have not been nor will I be, in a position to judge, and I don't in any case like the GOAT label because of its farmyard connotation: I would be upset if I thought my violin sound was merely bleating.
As a teenager, also living in Chicago, I attended the previous evening's performance of the same Prokofiev concerto that Mr. Levin described. I found it to be magical--it still remains in my memory. (Fortunately, I have never read any of Cassidy's reviews.) At my next violin lesson, my teacher, Fred Spector, a CSO violinist, described how, after that performance, Milstein 'held court,' telling stories in his rich Russian accent. Fred asked him to play on his beloved and rare Bergonzi, and Milstein played Paganiniana on it--it must have been a memorable experience for Fred!
I was transformed by Milstein's legendary artistry and generosity back in the 80's when at the last minute I took a break from college finals (gave up on violin as a career for a more "practical" track), grabbed my LP set of Milstein's Bach Sonatas and Partitas, and got a last-minute ticket at the Kennedy Center from someone outside the Concert Hall (front row, he was towering above me).
I just had to meet this legend after his most magnificent performance, and afterward in the green room he graciously signed my/his LP set of the Bach.
I told him that his performance of Bach's Partita #2 that afternoon was so beautiful. Without thinking I said how his interpretation inspired me in my playing of the Partita #2: without hesitation he smiled at me, holding up his Strad, and said "I'd love to hear you play it!"
I was terrified!!! All I could say was "I'm so sorry! I'm out of practice!".
I'll never forget that moment, how such a great violinist could show such love of music in such a wonderfully personal way.
(And an important reminder to practice, practice, practice!)
I'll fondly think of him tonight while practicing the Chaconne.
In 1950 I was studying and living with Jascha Simkins, who was a Stokowski hire for the Philadelphia Orchestra back in the 1920's. He knew Mr. Milstein from the 'old country'. Every friday Simkins took me to the morning rehearsal before the regular afternoon subscription concert by the Orchestra in the old Academy of Music at Broad and Locust Streets, after which we grabbed lunch at the Horn and Hardart Automat across the street before returning for the afternoon concert at 3.
During the break in the morning rehearsal of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto w. Mr. Milstein my teacher introduced me to the Master. During the conversation that ensued between the two, Simkins asked Milstein what fingering he used for the little (Auer Ed.) cadenza in the third movement, the one that starts with repeated pattern on the g string for a bar or so, and then ascends to the upper reaches of the instrument before returning down to the final return to the Rondo theme and the entrance of the orchestra. Milstein, who still had his violin and bow in his hands, rested the instrument on his extended left arm like a country fiddler and said, "Sometimes I use this fingering," and played the passage perfectly. Then he said, "But sometimes I use this one," and played a completely different fingering, again perfectly, and then he immediately went on with a third fingering, again perfectly. Of course Simkins and I were simply astonished. It was a jaw-dropping moment that I shall never forget. I was 17 years old at the time. I am now two months away from my 92nd. birthday. I struggled to get the passage right just once and with one fingering.
Well this not the end of the story by a long shot. Moving on to the wonderful performance later in the day to that passage, when he got about half way up he simply froze on the spot, followed by exactly the number of silent beats before the orchestra joined for the remainder of that otherwise perfect performance of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. The 'hole' in the music seemed that it was supposed to be that way. Could this be an example of greatness in performance, a 'hole' in the music?
During the five years that I was at Juilliard, and for the 24 years that I taught at Northwestern University, I never missed a Milstein performance whether with the CSO or in recital in Orchestra Hall or Carnegie Hall, including his last in Chicago just before he stopped playing in public. He included the Chaconne of J.S. Bach before intermission that afternoon. I was weeping openly almost throughout. So were most of those around me. Nathan Milstein always was, and still is, my favorite violinist.
Thank you for this illuminating article, Mr. Levin! And secondary thanks to Mr. Kartman for a fantastic anecdote, which I genuinely enjoyed!
To: Sander Marcus
Dear Sander,
I believe you knew my late brother, Joel Levin.
When I was growing up, N. Milstein was never under my "radar," mostly because the recordings I had were oriented to the next generation of violinists like I. Perlman, P. Zukerman, K. Wha Chung, and H. Szeryng until I had Robert (Bob) Rozek as my violin teacher. I was fortunate to learn about many other violinists from his generation and past generations while being a student of Mr Rozek, a student of M. Milstein himself. Personally, my approach to violin playing has changed considerably, and it may be fair to say that it was ultimately because of Mr Milstein.
Dear A C,
I attended the Meadowmount School of Music in the late sixties with Bob Rozek, your teacher!
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December 16, 2024 at 08:24 PM · A note about Milstein's birth date: There is some conflict about when Nathan Milstein was actually born!
We went with December 31, 2024 because Robert Levin, Bruce Dukov and other violinists such as Itzhak Perlman, Isaac Stern, etc. definitely celebrated Milstein's 80th birthday in December 1994 - there is a program to show for it. (more on this to come...)
I figure that Milstein himself knew when his 80th birthday was! The Kennedy Center's biography backs us up on this.
However, the New York Times obituary for Milstein (usually a very reliable source, but not infallible) cites December 31, 1903 as Milstein's birth date - and that would put this upcoming birthday anniversary at 121 years, not 120.
To further complicate the story: Wikipedia brings up the issue of the Julian calendar vs. the Gregorian calendar, giving Milstein a Julian calendar birthday of December 31, 1903 and a Gregorian calendar birthday of January 13, 1904. Born at the beginning of the 20th century in "Odessa, Russian Empire" - at least one source that I found said that this area of the world would still have been using the Julian calendar until February 1, 1918 - after Milstein's birth. That still puts him in the "121st anniversary" camp.
Are you confused yet?
Let's just add this observation to the mix: Having a birthday on December 31 of any year would be perpetually confusing, when calculating one's age with one's year of birth.
I leave you all to ponder it!