Great Mythical Violin Stories
Let's see how many we can get in here...we here them over and over. One to start with:
From Raphael Klayman
Posted on July 25, 2006 at 1:57 PM (MST)
So far it sounds like we're all a bit suspicious! Psychology can affect even the greats. I've heard that Mischa Elman was obsessive/compulsive about the adjustment of his violin. He'd often go into Wurlitzer's (the biggest NY shop of that time) and complain that his soundpost was slightly out of place. Rather than argue with him, the wise shop foreman, Sacconi, would say "Yes Mr. Elman, you're right!" He'd take it back to the shop, maybe loosen the tension of the strings a bit, have a cup of coffee, re-tune it, and bring it out. "What do you think now, Mr. Elman?" "Oh yes", said Elman, "much better!"
Replies (100)
Elman stories? There are tons of them.
My favorite is that (supposedly) a student got in to see him just before a concert in which Elman was going the play the Mendellsohn Concerto. The student asked Elman what his fingering was in a certain passage. Elman said, "I never discuss fingerings unless it's with my own students."
When Elman walked out on stage, he saw that the student was sitting in the first row right in front of him, score and pencil in hand. When Elman got to the passage in question, he turned and faced the orchestra so that the student couldn't see how he was playing the passage.
Who knows if these kinds of stories are true? But I sure hope so.
:) Sandy
There is a pretty good Szymon Goldberg story I once read in the Strad I think. Goldberg was playing a recital, and backstage in the bathroom there was a toilet running audibly (to the people on stage and in the audience). Goldberg finally stopped the recital, went backstage, fixed the thing so it would not run, and then continued.
Kreisler and Elman were eating in a cafe. The waiter approaches their table with an envelope.
The outside of the envelope reads, "To the greatest violinist in the world".
They exchange modesties. "Fritz, this must be for you."
"No, Mischa, surely this is meant for you".
Curiosity gets the better of them, and they open it.
It begins, "Dear Jascha..."
The best part of this story is that the person who played the trick on them was none other than Charlie Chaplin, who was standing in the corner laughing.
David
this one’s apparently true:
During a performance of the Kreutzer sonata at Carnegie Hall, Kreisler had a memory lapse and whispered to the pianist “where are we?” to which Rachmaninoff replied “Carnegie Hall!”
Possibly the most famous Elman story:
"When Jascha Heifetz made his American debut at Carnegie Hall in 1917, Mischa Elman, a leading violinist of the older generation, attended the concert in the company of the pianist Leopold Godowsky. At one point, Elman asked if it was getting uncomfortably hot in the hall, to which Godowsky quickly replied, "Not for pianists."
(shamelessly copied from this source, which was faster than me trying to remember it:
http://music.library.wisc.edu/Jongleur/pianists.htm)
The Heifetz story I've always liked (and which has been told many times but not verified) is that his valet was talking to one of Heifetz's friends and telling him how wonderful it was to be Heifetz's valet and to get to hear all this great music from this great musician. When asked if he ever told Heifetz how he felt, the valet said no. The friend said, "You should tell him; he'd appreciate it."
So finally, after a concert, the valet said to Heifetz, "Maestro, that Brahms was just beautiful."
Heifetz is said to have replied, "You mean I finally played something you like?"
Years ago I heard a fantastic performance of the Tchaikovsky Concerto by a well-known violinist (who shall go nameless) who was at that time shamelessly overweight. When he walked out on stage, I clearly heard someone behind me in the audience say, "Which chin is he going to put it under?"
:) Sandy
Speaking of Godowsky . . . . Fritz Kreisler was part Jewish but married to a very anti-semitic woman. His wife would boast to people that Fritz did not have a drop of Jewish blood in his body. To which Godowsky once responded: "Well Madam, he must be very anemic."
Another one, and one of my all-time favorites. A violist in a quartet (which just performed a Brahms quartet with him in the audience) was trying to butter-up Brahms. Brahms hated that sort of thing. Finally, the violist asked him, "Did you like the tempo?" Brahms replied, "Yes, especially yours."
LOL! These are great! =' ]
Greetings,
Sander, the anecdote you mention appears in Axelrod"s "Heifetz." The person expresisng appreciation was actually his page turner.
Cheers,
Buri
Hi, Buri: Thanks for the correction. I also read it in another publication, but I can't remember which one. In any case, it makes a great story.
Sandy
Marie Hall's entire life reads like a myth, much to her dismay.
Dismay? I don't know much about Marie Hall, but I just Googled her and I see she studied with (among others) Elgar, Wilhelmj, and Sevcik. She was an instantaneous success in England and the United States, and Lark Ascending was written for her (she also gave the premier performance). Where's the dismay?
I'm reading Heifetz As I knew Him by Ayke Agus, and the last 15 years of his life sound like a mythical horror story.
Pauline: Yes, I've read a couple of bios of Heifetz, including the one by Wechsler-Vered. Most of them tiptoe around what appeared to be a life-long tendency to alienate people. I'm sure this wasn't the case a hundred percent of the time, but he seems to have been someone who didn't allow many people to get close to him. As people get into old age, relationships become exceptionally important, and without them (or without a lifetime of learning how to build relationships) the loneliness can be torturous. Fame, fortune, and power are no substitute, and can interpersonally isolate a person even further.
I think that as time goes on, the Heifetz story is going to become as legendary and with the same "mythical" proportions as the Paganini story. These are people who were larger than life, and whose weaknesses were as monumental as their strengths.
Sandy
Tom used my Kreisler story.Elman took a taxi in NY and the driver recognized him,and lavishly complemented his playing. The ride over,Elman gave the man a a generous tip.The drivers reply"Thanks Mr. Elman,now I can go hear Heifetz."
From Hadden's "Modern Musicians":
Marie Hall: "I am really sick to death of all that has been written about my youth and its vicissitudes."
The struggle was severe at this time owing to her father's lack of means; and she was reduced to playing ephemeral music in saloons and sometimes on pavement's edge.
The story goes that a lttle later a clergyman, an enthusiastic lover of music, found her in a half starved condition playing for coppers in the streets of Bristol. Recognizing a talent beyond the ordinary, he took her to London [to study]. After she had made steady progress for a year or more, [Marie Hall was sent], armed with a letter of introduction from Kubelik, to Professor Sevcik and Prague.
And yet Joachim had refused her because, as he alleged, she played out of tune!
He should talk!
My father was at a Toscanini Aida rehearsal and said that after one of the horses shall we say, decorated the stage, the Maestro turned around and said to the few people watching, "truly a disgusting spectacle, but God, what a critic."
Ray,
Is that true, or is your dad just one of the million others who tell that story. Seems every time I hear it, it's a different conductor.
Sounds like the lighthouse and warship joke.
I heard a story about Kreisler I think, that he was supposed to play the Beethoven violin concerto with an orchestra, but instead of hearing the timpani, he heard the strings playing e minor arpeggios! So he quickly put up his violin and began playing Mendelssohn! What a surprise!!!!
I heard the above story, but with Kung Wa Chung.
MP.
Me too.
Edwin, thats fantastic!!!
Me too.
Edwin, thats fantastic!!!
I heard the Beethoven/Mendelssohn story but with Stern!!!!
Wow, these stories are SO unreliable!!
Did anybody hear the story about Anna-Sophie Mutter (I think) who was playing a concert when I giant lightning bolt hit very near the hall causing a big boom. When asked about it after the concert she said "What lightning?"
I disagree. These stories are very reliable. The problem is that every time you hear it, it is with a different musician.
Pieter - it is well-known that the conductor in Ray's story was Sir Thomas Beecham. As a conductor, he had a penchant for off-color remarks,e.g, to the female cellist who was not playing up to his standards: "Madam, you have between your legs an instrument that can give pleasure to thousands and all you can do is scratch on it."
I actually have an old book called "Beecham Stories," which is loaded with stories about him. I saw him conduct once, about a year before he died, and after the last encore he talked to the audience. He was wonderful.
My favorite Beechamism? Definition of a harpsichord: "It sounds like two skeletons copulating on a tin roof."
Sandy
Oo I just remembered. There is also the "multi-musician" story of the violinist playing a concerto (I think the Lalo Symphonie Espagnole) when a string breaks, and without missing a beat exchanges violins with the concertmaster and continues to play.
I have heard it with Vengerov, and with Repin, and maybe even more violinists.
And I think there's a story of the E string breaking and the violinist just continuing on the three remaining strings until the end of the concerto. Is that Paganini maybe?
Another Beecham favorite was when a soprano was not singing up to his standards, and he went behind her, cupped her rather large breasts with his hands, and remarked, "If only these were brains."
While we're on the Beecham theme . . .
Fritz Reiner: I wanted to thank you for a wonderful night with Mozart and Beecham
Beecham: Why drag in Mozart?
And another great one:
"Its easy. All you have to do is waggle a stick" [Beecham to his 10-year-old sister]
OK, here's another one. In an opera rehearsal, after Chaliapin sings his aria and dies, the soprano keeps coming in late with her aria. Beecham finally said to her: "Mr. Chaliapin here dies so beautifully, and then why do you always come in late?"
She said, "It's not my fault. He dies too soon."
Beecham: "My dear, no opera singer ever dies too soon."
----------
Beecham: "What have we got today?"
Orchestra Librarian: "The Pathetique, Sir."
Beecham: "Oh well, let's see what we can do to cheer it up."
I heard another Beecham story about a clarinetist tuning an orchestra. The clarinetist had given a very wobbly A, and Beecham responded, "Gentleman, take your pick."
That would probably be an oboe...
It was an oboe.
Beecham to a new member of the orchestra: "What is your name?"
Musician: "Ball, sir."
Beecham: "How very singular."
Beecham to a trombone player during a rehearsal: "Would you now apply that antique drainage system to your face."
Toscanini after a rehearsal, brushing aside an angry and threatening New York musician he had berated during the rehearsal: "It's too late'a to apologize'a."
Angry first violist, to a mean European conductor trying to create a new image of himself at the first rehearsal by smiling and saying, "Good morning, Gentlemen."
1st Violist (muttering): "No good morning for you, you p___k."
Was it true that Heifetz threw up after every performance? I read it in a book somewhere, but never knew if it was true
Roman Totenberg had a double violin case at the airport.
Somebody asked him why he had two violins, and Totenberg replied "Because I'm playing the Bach Double Concerto".
One time Heifetz was driving his Bentley back to Beverly Hills after a concert at the Hollywood Bowl. He seen a girl walking on the side of the road and he stopped and offered her a ride. She got in and told him to drive her home. While they was talking she said "This is an expensive car, ain't it?" He said "I live in Beverly Hills too." That reminded her that her and her daddy was so poor and she started crying. Then Heifetz give her a money candle to burn so she could be rich too. They got to her house and she went in and Heifetz drove off. The next day he realized the money candle he'd give her was one that he was going to throw away because they didn't work, so he drove back to her house to give her a a good brand. Her daddy answered the door and Heifetz told him the story. Her daddy said usually he wouldn't say nothing, but since he recognized him from TV, he told him it was his daughter who died twenty years ago! She was a ghost! Her cousin told me this story. Heifetz give her daddy the good candle, and two weeks later he was rich.
Hey, Jim: I didn't know you were into urban legends. Actually, there is a sequel to that story - Anyone who buys every recording, tape, CD, DVD, or other recorded performance of Heifetz from the very beginning of his career to the present will become poor overnight.
Unnamed oboist, to Otto Klemperer during a rehearsal, after the famous conductor had asked for numerous repeats and given endless explanations of a certain passage of music: "Mr. Klemps, you talk'a too much."
:) Sandy
Kreisler played a private party once. Supposedly the fee was $3000.
The matron hosting the party said that Kreisler could mingle but had to eat in the kitchen because he was a "musician". Or something like that.
Kreisler then supposedly said "Well then my fee is $2000".
One time I played a concert in Antwerp, Belgium. At least I thought it was Antwerp, Belgium. Turns out it was a Stop 'n Shop in Wisconsin somewhere, but it was fun man.
Preston
My Elman story quoted above is one I originally wrote on another thread - but it certainly works here! The following are a few more Elman stories I've heard:
Elman attended Oistrakh's NY recital debut with a friend. Throughout the concert Elman made no comment. Finally, after the last piece was performed, his friend said "Well Mischa, what did you think of this Oistrakh fellow?" "He's alright" allowed Elman, "but even Jascha's better!"
Elman was known to be very full of himself, even by most soloist standards. Once at a dinner party he was bending some poor woman's ear for quite a while about his many triumphs. To his 'credit' he caught himself after a while and said "I've been talking too much. Tell me, how do YOU like my playing?"
A noted violinist ran into Elman once and gushed to the famed virtuoso about what a great fan he was, and how he owned most of his records. "What do you mean MOST of my records?" retorted Elman, "Why don't you have ALL of my records?"
Apparently, Joseph Fuchs had an ego not to be outdone even by the great Mischa. Late in his career, well into his late 80's he gave a very decent recital in New York. Among the well-wishers who came back stage was the distinguished pedagog, Raphael Bronstein, who said "I congratulate you on your excellent recital, and on keeping up your playing to this point in your life"
"Bronstein, I gotta hand it to you" said Fuchs. "You know a great artist when you hear one!"
A favorite Kreisler story: The great artist was invited to be a guest at an elegant dinner party. "I'd be very happy to attend" said Kreisler. "Of course, you'll bring your violin?"
"No. My violin does not dine!" (Once as a guest at a party, myself, someone asked me why I didn't bring my violin. I used Kreisler's retort. Unfortunately, she didn't get it.)
Speaking of retorts, many of us know this story, but it bears repeating: The composer, Reger, was savaged by a particular critic. Not one to take this sort of thing lying down, he wrote this brief epistle to the errant journalist: "Dear Sir. I am sitting in the smallest room in my house. Your review is before me. Shortly, it will be behind me."
Finally, I have it on good authority that the following story is true: once while Fritz Reiner was at the helm of the Pittsburgh Symphony, a successful freelance violinist, who wasn't interested in a position with the orchestra, decided to "audition" for the fearsome Maestro, who was not noted for his sense of humor. "What do you want to play for me?" asked Reiner. "The Mendelssohn concerto" replied the violinist. "Fine. Let's hear it" Our fearless fiddler proceded to play the 1st violin part 1/8 note passages. "What the hell are you doing?", screamed the maddened maestro.
"Why, I'm playing the Mendelssohn concerto."
"You idiot! You're playing the orchestra part!"
"Well, I'm only auditioning to play in the orchestra; I'm not presuming to be a soloist."
"Get out!!!"
HAHAHAAHAAA that last one is fantastic, ive gotta try that
This is from Axelrod's Heifetz bio.
As you know, when Heifetz and Elman first came to the U.S. they lived in the same rooming house in Arkansas with their fathers, neither of whom was especially well-educated. One day Heifetz's pere said to Elman's father, "Do you want to play 20 questions?" Elman's dad said "Yep." Then he said, "Is it a thang?" Heifetz's dad said "Yep." Elman's dad said, "Kin you eat it?" Heifetz's dad said "Yep." Elman's dad said, "Is it horse sh--?" And Jasha's dad said, "Yep." Then they shared a laugh because Mischa's father was such a good guesser.
True story - In preparation for a performance of the Tchaikovsky Symphony #4 a violin teacher I had gave
Josef Gingold a call. He asked Mr. Gingold for workable fingerings for the fast runs near the end of the piece. Mr.Gingold said to take out a pencil and carefully mark these down: 1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1 !!!!
(After Gingold had his laugh, he said to come by in person for some pointers)
Two stories from my late father.
#1 (claimed to be true; I'm suspicious, but truth was not a requirement for this thread) My father grew up in New Zealand, and assured me this happened in his childhood. A military cannon had been hired to go off during a performance of Tchaikovsky's "Overture 1812." It was secreted somewhere backstage. Come the cue at the climax, no cannon. They finished the piece more tamely than planned, the audience applauded, the concert ended (it was the last work on the program), and the audience began to exit. At that point there was a tremendous explosion: the cannon had finally fired.
#2 (Definitely true) My father often escorted visiting musicians in my home town (Charleston, W.Va.). In the 1950s he was in a hotel room with Isaac Stern and his wife just after they'd arrived in town for a concert. His wife phoned a good friend back in New York: "And we're in . . . we're in . . . Isaac, where are we?"
(says more about the vicissitudes of touring when you had to put up with DC 4's, pre-Amtrak railroads, and 2-lane highways in ice storms)
I have no idea whether this is a true story, but it could be. A musician was late for a rehearsal. The conductor was the feared Fritz Reiner. The musician tried to sneak around in the corridors behind or beneath the stage. He suddenly saw Reiner walking towards him. There was nowhere to hide. As Reiner got closer and closer, a menacing look on his face, the musician started to explain why he was late, and he was apologizing and stuttering, all the while become more and more terrified as Reiner approached him. Finally, when Reiner walked up to him and musician was trembling and expecting the worst, Reiner shouted, "Out of my way," shoved the musician aside, and walked on.
OK, I heard this from one of Sergiu Luca's students so it is probably true: Mr. Luca was in New York, having just played a concert there the night before, and had to get to Boston for a concert THAT night. Unfortunately it was snowing very hard and all airports were closed! So Mr. Luca hails a cab, tells the poor driver to take him to Boston, and spends all 4-odd hours in the backseat practicing. Apparently the concert went very well.
MG
I also recently heard a good Gil Shaham story (heard it from a relative of Gil's so it also is probably true!), apparently one time at Aspen he was backstage before playing the Carmen Fantasy, and poured himself a nice tall cold glass of Sprite. He took a swig, set it down on a nearby table and let his attention wander for a few moments. Well, Aspen being Aspen, lots of other musicians were milling all around drinking lots of other things. So right before Gil went onstage, he reached for his glass and chugged it. Well, there had been some sort of mix-up, and what Gil ended up chugging was a rather large quantity of vodka. He stumbled onstage....apparently the performance was stunning, if taken rather prestissimo....
The most famous theme in American music was thought up by a hillbilly fiddler in eastern Ky. Oh wait, that's not mythical:)
Sounds like Gil should up his tolerance....
Can you help him with that? :)
This was told to me by my former teacher who was concertmaster of a French orchestra in the 1930s.
Fritz Kreisler was violin soloist one evening and he came onstage and tuned. The conductor brought the orchestra to attention with his baton and was ready to begin the introduction.
Suddenly Kreisler tapped the conductor on the shoulder with his bow. The startled conductor turned around at looked at Kreisler who uttered the following:
"Sir, which concerto is it tonight?"
Ted Kruzich
(I believe this to be true.) In 2005, our group performed the St. Matthew Passion in a hall with a tin roof. Toward the end of the lightning and thunder fugue, it started to rain, the raindrops making a tapping sound on the roof. The director smiled, I thought at the timely entrance of an unwritten percussion part, but he later said he hadn't noticed. I think it can be heard on the recording.
That's nothing. Some friends of mine once played in an orchestra concert where a terrible rainstorm broke loose and the roof started leaking very badly....during Handel's "Water Music".
I used to busk on the London Underground in the mid-eighties.
One time, at Tottenham Court Road station, an elderly woman with a somewhat familiar face came up to me and complimented me on my playing. I thanked her, and she replied, "Well, my cousin is a violinist, you might have heard of him." "Yes, what is his name?" I asked. She said, "Jascha. Jascha Heifetz."
gc
Holy sh*t! That's awesome!
great!
This one isn't that funny, and it's not really a myth since it came from the horse's mouth, but here goes: My teacher's teacher was Sascha Lasserson (spelling?). Anyway, he said his teacher related this story to him about himself and Heifetz:
Heifetz was giving a concert, and Sascha attended the rehearsal. He was sitting somewhere near the front of the auditorium and in the middle of the rehearsal, Jasha stopped playing and motioned towards Sascha and asked him not to sit so close, but to sit somewhere nearer the back of the auditorium. Later, Jasha admitted the reason he asked Sascha to sit near the back was because "I don't like to conjur in front of a conjurer." My teacher tells me his teacher thought that was a very high compliment.
Not mythical but for real (it was filmed; I've seen it). An orchestra rehearsal. Sir Thomas Beecham is discussing something with the musicians. He starts tapping his score with the baton and says matter-of-factly: "Nobody's playing anything like what I've got here."
:) Sandy
Can't resist a little more Sir Thomas Beecham.
A piano soloist (playing a Mozart Concerto) and Beecham were not seeing eye to eye. At intermission, the Librarian asked Beecham if he wanted to leave the piano on the stage. Beecham replied, "Oh, leave it on. Anyway, it will probably slink off by itself."
When shown an inscription in a Sussex graveyard saying, 'Here lies a fine musician and a great organist,' Beecham said, "How on earth did they get them both into so small a grave?"
Beecham, to an audience: "Ladies and gentlemen, in upwards of fifty years of concert-giving before the public, it has seldom been my good fortune to find the programme correctly printed. Tonight is no exception to the rule, and therefore, with your kind permission, we will now play you the piece which you think you have just heard."
Sir Thomas, commenting on a baritone auditioning for Carmen: "He's made a mistake -- he thinks he's the bull instead of the toreador."
After conducting a Bruckner symphony: "In the first movement alone I took note of six pregnancies and at least four miscarriages."
Beecham, to his orchestra: "Forget about bars. Look at the phrases, please. Remember that bars are only the boxes in which the music is packed."
From Beecham Stories, compiled by Harold Atkins and Archie Newman, Futura Publications, London, 1978.
Love these stories! Keep 'em coming all.
Neil
musicians have a great sense of humour,no?sometimes terrible too...never thought Beecham was like this!!!
AN
ORMANDY QUOTES!!
http://www.segall.com/blau.html
It seems as if Ormandy was the Yogi Berra of classical music.
A few summers ago I studied with the Muir Quartet and the violist Steve Ansell, who is also principal viola of the Boston Symphony, told us a great story about his experience in the Boston Marathon. He finished all 26 miles, then got into a car and performed the Mendelssohn Octet with the Guarneri Quartet. Talk about endurance...
Excellent analogy Pieter! :)
MG
Kevin,
They played the Mendelssohn Octet in his car? How did they all fit?
Ha Ha!
Maybe it was Mendelssohn's Octane.
Sorry- He drove to a concert then played in a hall with the Guarneri Quartet...the other way would be quite a squeeze...
The Mendelssohn Octane? Is that 87 or 93 octane?
Depends on how fast a tempo the cellos take at the opening of the last mvt...
Greetings,
Oistrakh once rounded off a recital with the Airon a G string. The paino started so slowly he knew he wasn`t going to make it so he simply stopped the pianist and asked for a differnet tempo. I have no trouble asking cellists to do the same thing....
Cheers,
Burp
Mendelssohn diesel maybe?
kevin: if you think he had it bad, think about his page-turner.
When I was in my high school orchestra, on a warm Spring day, we were rehearsing in the orchestra rehearsal room on the 3rd floor of the school. It had tall tall windows, which were wide open. A pidgeon landed on the windowsill and started chirping away loud enough to annoy everybody. The conductor (Ralph Lewis), in frustration, threw his baton at the pidgeon. The baton flew out the window; the pidgeon flew in. We all had a devil of a time trying to chase the bird back outside. Someone later retrieved the baton on the sidewalk.
:) Sandy
As a college student, I play asst. princ. 2nd with a community orchestra...We sat to the right of the conductor...like the vlas in the Berlin. The principal was obese and pompous...wasn't a very good player and resented my presence and didn't count rests too well..some grease from his last pig-out must have remained on his right hand, as an up-bow flourish sent his bow 4 rows into the audience...trying to wrest my bow away resulted in quite a scene as I refused and fought through his attempts, til some one passed his sword back from the seats...this may have been my last engagement with the group...not certain the conductor noticed...such fun !!
This has a slightly indelicate punchline, but I have it on prety good authority that it's true:
Many years ago Aaron Rosand made his Korean debut. He had a brilliant success, and after the concert some big wigs took him out for a fine dinner. At one point someone asked him: "Mr. Rosand, won't you tell us something about your beautiful violin?"
"Certainly", replied Rosand. "It's a wonderful del Gesu, known as the 'ex Kohansky', etc., etc." Everyone was duly impressed.
"But you know," continued Rosand "I also have a fine Poggi" [Ansaldo Poggi was a very good modern Italian maker]
There were audible gasps of consternation.
"What?? What are you saying??"
"Why are you reacting like that? Yes, I do have a Poggi, and I feel that my Poggi looks and sounds beautiful in its own right!"
More gasps of consternation.
It was nobody's fault. I believe that in Italian, "poggi" means "small hills" - probably where that family originated. But as it happens, "poggi" in Korean means - well, a lady's private parts!
I assume that Rosand only made mention of his del Gesu in subsequent Korean Tours!
Raph...
a lot of korean girls will think it's funny when I tell them all the swear words my korean friends taught me as a kid... except for that one.
That's funny - that's the only swear word my Korean friend taught me when I was a kid. ;)
Larry Brandt wrote, " ... I think there's a story of the E string breaking and the violinist just continuing on the three remaining strings until the end of the concerto. Is that Paganini maybe?
Larry,
I read that about Perlman, somewhere online. It's a wonderful story, and I sure hope it's true. Here it is as I saved it: (possibly modified slightly from the original)
--------------------
On Nov. 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Lincoln Center in New York City. If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, so he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of two crutches.
To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an unforgettable sight. He walks painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly, puts his crutches on the floor, releases the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play. By now, the audience is used to this ritual and sits quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair. They remain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps on his legs. They wait until he is ready to play.
But this time, just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it snap -- it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking what that sound meant or what he had to do. People who were there that night thought to themselves: "We figured that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage, to either find another violin or else find another string."
But he didn't. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled to the conductor to begin again. The orchestra began and he played from where he had left off. And he played with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard before. Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. You could see him modulating, changing and recomposing the piece in his head.
At one point, it sounded like he was de-tuning the strings to get new sounds from them that they had never made before.
When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium. We were all on our feet, screaming and cheering, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he had done.
He smiled, wiped the sweat from this brow, raised his bow to quiet us, and then he said, not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone, "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much you can still do with what you have left."
Wow, that is absolutely fantastic! Itzhak is so awesome! I wish I'd been there to see and hear that performance.
Snopes says it's an urban legend. Of course this is about mythical violin stories, so it qualifies.
http://www.snopes.com/music/artists/perlman.htm
Speaking of snapped strings - this story involved Isaac Stern and yours truly:
Back in 1975 Stern gave a recital at Brooklyn College. He was truly in form that evening and played excellently.
Early into the second half, his E string snapped. He quickly walked off the stage without much evident concern. He returned rather quickly. "How could he have changed his string so fast?" I thought. He didn't! He announced to the audience that he had no extra string, and that unless there were any violinists in the audience, he really couldn't continue. I immediately jumped up, ran to the nearest usher and told him that I was a violin student and didn't live far. The usher drove me home. I had no extras either, and so, brought my whole violin. Backstage at the hall I had some trouble getting the string off. I asked the lady sitting next to me if she had a hairpin. She obliged. She turned out to be Mrs. Stern!
Shortly after that incident I received a package from Isaac Stern in the mail. It included an autographed record, and a letter thanking me for my willingness to help. "I immediately put a supply of E strings in my violin case when I returned home", continued the letter, "and am sending you one enclosed. [It was in an envelope, stapled to the letter.] You never know. it may come in handy at someone else's concert!"
Needless to say, I framed that letter, and never used that particular E-string!
Mr. Klayman,
That's a great story. What a class act he was, Mr. Stern.
I remember once in Aspen, Jimmy Lin was performing the Sibelius concerto with us. At the end of the first page he broke his E-string.
The weather was the usual Aspen weather (sunny-rainy-sunny again).....
After he changed the string we started again.
To our amazement when we arrived at the same spot, the same thing happened AGAIN.
Ofcourse he stopped and went backstage to change the E string one more time.
As we started the concerto for the third time, we braced ourselves for the end of page one of the piece, and wouldn't you know it, it popped yet again for the third time.
Three strings in a row in the same spot sounds like impossible right? Sort of like lightening striking in the same place twice.
But this really happened.
Luckily the third time around, we went on to play through the whole piece. BTW, He was stellar !
Once at a Gidon Kremer concert at Carnegie Hall (in mid 1980's),
Gidon was busy playing with Thomas Zehetmair a piece by Shnittke "Mozart ala Haydn". In the midst of their fantastic performance, a very large light fixture on the stage, right above Gidon Kremer, came loose and came tumbling down about an inch away from him.
They kept playing despite the ordeal.
It was surreal and shocking.
This thing could have killed him easily if it had landed just a little to the right (which would have been right on his head).
Heifetz was bothered by an effusive woman who came to see him after a performance and gushed, "Oh, Mr. Heifetz, your violin has a beautiful sound." He leaned over, put his ear next to his violin case, and said, "I don't hear anything."
Karajan held Ormandy in low regard. Karajan once said that Ormandy's musical style was terrible because he grew up listening to music played in sunny Italian piazzi. K believed that O wasn't a sufficiently forceful leader. K said that the only way musicians in O's orchestra knew when to start playing was by starting at the moment O appeared on stage and counting 20 measures.
I once saw Itzhak Perlman break a string while playing a concerto with the New York Philharmonic. Sorry, I don't remember which concerto.
He immediately swapped violins with Glenn Dicterow, the concertmaster, and went on playing. Glenn, meanwhile, swapped violins with the player behind him, who rushed offstage carrying Perlman's violin.
A few minutes later, he returned bearing the violin with its new string, and the double-violin-swap took place in reverse, Perlman reclaiming his violin during a pause in his part.
The next passage he played had one note grossly out of tune--but only one. All I can figure is that he quickly realized that the new string had gone out and compensated for it. During the next pause, he retuned quickly and all was well after that.
And neither Perlman nor the orchestra missed a beat. I was very impressed.
One time Heifetz decided he just wasn't cut out for violin playing and so he decided to learn to fly helicopters. So he signed up for lessons. Just after he'd left the house to go to the first lesson the phone rang at his house. That woman who wrote that book answered the phone, and it was the flying teacher on the line. The teacher said it wasn't a good day to fly and that she was cancelling the lesson. The woman who wrote that book said ok, ok, she just figured they'd work it out when Heifetz got there, then she went back to feeding Heifetz's exotic pet collection. About an hour later Heifetz came back and he was telling this story. He said he got in the helicopter with his teacher and they fired 'er up and it made this awful racket. The teacher said he'd never heard a noise like that coming out of a helicopter so they'd better not fly. Then the woman who wrote that book said your teacher called here right after you left and she said it wasn't a good day to fly. Heifetz said what do you mean "she"? My teacher's a man. And he doesn't have my phone number, he has my cell number. So Heifetz wondered who'd called, so he went to the phone and pushed *69. When it answered, all he heard on the other end was hysterical screaming. If freaked him out so bad he never went back to the helicopter school. He started playing violin again, this time for real, and got so good that he played in New York City. True story.
I must be really retarded... I'm utterly confused about the helicopter story....who's that woman??
Stolen from somewhere... really enjoyed it.
After a very successful American tour that ended in Carnegie Hall, the journalists went to see David Oistrakh backstage. They asked him with great enthusiasm who he thought was the best violinist. He then replied after looking towards the ceiling:
"It's me!"
The journalists were very surprised of the answer and asked him why.
"God told me!" said Oistrakh.
A week after, Heifetz was playing in Carnegie Hall. Of course, it was an electric performance, so the journalists went to see him backstage. As soon as they got to him, they asked him the same question as they did for Oistrakh.
"- Who do you think is the best violinist?
- Well, it's me, of course!
- But Mr.Oistrakh told us that God assured him HE was the best!
- Well, I don't remember ever telling him that!"
Ha! That's a keeper. Is it true?
Here's one. Arnold Steinhardt left his Guadagnini in the trunk of his car for a week while hiking with some friends. Since the car was parked on an upward slope, the gas tank leaked fuel right into the trunk, which went into his violin case and soaked his violin! When Mr. Steinhardt got back, he grabbed the violin and washed it off in the stream. He then took it to a well-known luthier to have it looked at, without telling the luthier what happened. The next day, he got a phone call. The luthier said, "The Guad's in great condition! No cracks, no openings! Come pick it up whenever you want!"
You know, one time they had a supper and Heifetz had a supper. They all enjoyed the supper. And they thought about it there was something else they needed, and somebody sprung up and said "There ain't no wine here." And Heifetz told them to turn up the washtubs and set it under the dripping of the house. Come a big rain, filled up all the tubs, and they turned all the tub's water to wine. They got to drinking and it got good to them you understand and they wanted to know from Heifetz why he want to save the best for the last.
The story of if only these were brains was a comment that Toscanini made to Milanov--a lady known to be somewhat musically wayword. In frustration he grabbed her breasts and said, Zinka, Zinka if only these were brains. She answered him, "Oh grazie, Maestro."
Jim - re the helicopter - "true story" - huh? When did H. decide that he wasn't cut out for the violin? And considering that he died in around 1986 (or 1987?), and probably wouldn't have taken lessons right before he died, when did he have a cell phone - in the early 80's or before? Who had cell phones then? And then he played in NYC? 'That woman who wrote that book' -Ayke Agus, I believe, was with him in his retirement years. Re the tub - might we say that's his Last Supper? ;-)
Anyway, H. like to quote an Italian expression to the effect that 'whether true or not, it's a good story!'
Re Oistrakh stories - hope I'm not repeating myself: O. was asked by someone where he thought he stood among the great violinists.
"I'd say I'm #2", he said
"OK, then who is #1?:
"Oh" he said, "there are so many!"
There are many apocryphal stories about Paganini. I recall two involving him and Vuilliaume. In one, V. made a copy of P's "Canon" del Gesu so exact that P. couldn't tell the difference. I'm sure P. could tell.
In another, people were so mystified by P's stacatto and flying stacatto that they spread rumors that he hollwed out his bow, and put in ball berrings to help bring about his effects. Once P. dropped off his bow at V. to be rehaired. When he came back for it he supposedly noticed that V. had made an incision to see for himself. P. said "I did not think you would be such a fool as to believe that nonsense". I'm sure V. was no fool - but again, a good story.
Oh - another one:
A guy checked into a fine hotel, but quickly became annoyed at some violinist next door, who was practicing slow, boring exercises. He complained to the clerk:
"Can't you do something?"
"Well", said the clerk, "I'll see what I can do. But it might interest you to know that it's David Oistrakh next door to you!"
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July 26, 2006 at 07:03 AM · I heard Paganini was the Devil's spawn.