This past July, I traveled north of Seattle to Orcas Island – part of the American San Juan Islands, just south of Vancouver – to visit a dear friend. Weeks before I learned that Bill was not well. Over the past year he gradually had lost all strength and dexterity in his hands.
Bill’s wife left the morning I arrived, traveling several hundred miles south to be with her sister who was taking care of her husband, suffering from dementia.
Decades before, I lived in Seattle and Bill and I were going through profound challenges in our lives, seemingly at the same time. I left my performing career In NYC which was just beginning to flourish and moved to Seattle with the rest of our family – my wife, her daughter from another marriage, and our daughter – to try and keep our family together. From Carnegie Hall, I was now selling welding supplies, beginning my Music Magic program for young children and practicing my clarinet when I had the time and energy. Bill had a most tragic event happen with his immediate family which I won’t go into here.
We took trips to Orcas together with our very young daughters and at the time our walks and sharing our lives made us both stronger. Bill always had a sense of humor. I remember when my wife and I realized we were not going to be together. She moved out and the traumatic sharing custody of Laura, our daughter, had begun. My family was breaking into pieces.
One morning I opened the front door to get the mail and almost broke my neck tripping over the most unlikely, outrageously heavy, large, immovable object that I could imagine; a full-sized bowling ball was on my front porch. How did it get there?? WHY was it there? Laura and I, through all the sadness and uncertainty of our lives were suddenly shaken out of our doldrums. We could not stop laughing at how absurd it was to find this bowling ball on our front porch. It had to be Bill.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I arrived at Eastsound Airport on Orcas. I saw Bill. We exchanged warm hugs as was always our custom and I didn’t notice anything different about him until he asked me to drive. Opening the driver’s door, I noticed a wrench in the front seat right by the steering wheel. Was this another one of his jokes? Bill explained the wrench was to help him turn the key in the ignition. In the five days we spent together Bill got himself dressed, and only a few times asked me for a little help straightening his collar.
Thank goodness he definitely knew what he was doing in the kitchen, directing me precisely how he wanted each piece of garlic crushed, onion sliced, red pepper flattened and thinly cut, how much and when to begin heating the extra virgin Spanish olive oil. I was proud to be Bill’s prep cook, cutting, slicing, dicing, pouring one potion into another to make the most flavorful, delectable sauces. Mostly Indian and Italian dishes that week. Evenings we spent dining and drinking local ale on his porch looking out on the most serene setting of the Strait of Juan de Fuca framed by centuries old Douglas firs.
Over the past few months, while searching for doctors, healers, the internet for different, perhaps less traditional modalities of treatment, Bill has learned that his diagnosis is ALS. He told me about what might happen to him in the months to come.
You would think that anyone else would just fall apart, but not Bill.
In the five days we spent together I didn’t sense any self-pity or depression. My dear friend, Bill, is such an inspiration, always in the moment paying attention to each task before him. Without realizing it at the time I learned about compassion and patience from him.
When we were together Bill was interested in me, in my life. Still with a sense of humor, I believe that he did more for my sense of well-being than I did for him. What a gift, a life lesson, a relief really to get out of myself, my self-interest and learn from my dear friend, my brother from another mother.
I have said this before but it more than deserves repeating – I did not achieve my success in life without many nurturing, loving people helping me along every step of the way.
My first motivation in music
Looking back, I remember the first girl I tried very hard to impress back in fifth grade and her name was Amarie Rockey. If she had not entered a certain talent contest at Sunny Brae Elementary School, I might have never learned any instrument and my life would have gone in a completely different direction.
Thanks, Dad
From the beginning, I gained much of my boldness from my father. I still remember my dad’s audacious phone call to Professor Jettel, then the principal clarinetist of the Vienna Philharmonic. After one minute on the phone, he asked Prof. Jettel if he would give me clarinet lessons. In baseball terms my father might as well have called Sandy Koufax, Hall of Fame Pitcher of the Los Angeles Dodgers, to teach me to become a more successful pitcher!
Rudolf Serkin
I think also of Rudolf Serkin, one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century, who became the Director of the Curtis Institute of Music after my first year there. Mr. Serkin was responsible for many steps forward in my life, providing me (actually providing ALL the students at Curtis) opportunities in chamber music which for me led to the formation of the Aulos Wind Quintet – we won the Naumburg Competition in NYC. Winning the Naumburg Competition (with the Emerson Quartet, 1978) enabled us to commission John Harbison to write his now famous “Quintet.” Then came the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra and eventually Grammy Awards, along with 70 recordings for Deutsche Grammophon.
Unique opportunity
Mr. Serkin also invited me to the Marlboro Music Festival where we performed and recorded a Max Reger Sonata together. Mr Serkin could have recorded with any clarinetist in the world, yet he chose me. It is difficult to imagine how I would have had the same opportunities of performing with the greatest musicians at both the Marlboro Music Festival and in NYC without Mr. Serkin’s guiding presence and influence.
Love matters
I am grateful for Barbara Greco, wife and dear friend from childhood, who brought so much love, comfort, happiness and security to my life at a time when I desperately needed it, until her passing in 2017. Today, I am so blessed to be with my wife, Barb Thorne Singer, who has been my rock in so many ways. Barb is my Go-To in all matters regarding From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall and has been a kind and loving partner who continues to make my life and future something worth looking forward to. I strive to be as good a husband for her.
It takes a village
I also want to thank Deryn Riggs for his talents assisting and inspiring me with ideas writing my blog. With his partner, Laura Singer (my daughter!) I want to thank you both for continuing to create opportunities for me and us to reach a bigger audience. Laura, thanks also for your great work on the website!
I appreciate the time and energy that we have, with Barb and my sister, Deborah, working together on this labor of love. More about Deborah at a later time.
Space does not allow me to mention everyone who has made a difference in my life, but here is a partial list of dear friends and family who have been an inspiration and have helped me, especially emotionally, through some very tough times. These dear family and friends appear in no particular order: Ellen Faulk, Sharon Darnov, Allen Darnov, Morrie Darnov, Norman Sadofsky, Lisa Febre, Rodney Punt, Heidi Lehwalder, Hans Boepple, Arthur van Gelder, Brian Feinblum, Alexis Humes, Betty Oberacker.
Dear Everyone, Who, out there is involved with a project right now? Thinking about it, probably everyone reading this is involved with something they have to do. There are always projects to be done like paying taxes, cleaning house or doing a home improvement, although the latter can be joyous.
Writing From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall was and is a passion project for me. You give almost everything you have emotionally, financially – day in, day out, sick or well, tired or awake, grumpy or elated – to keep moving forward. Some days are better than others, and that is putting it mildly.
I remember many joys and highlights in my life. Hopefully there are many high points and satisfying moments yet to come. I also remember all the auditions I lost, I remember having to say good bye to someone I loved because I could not find employment as a musician in the country where she found a job as an opera singer. I remember playing for the President and the same day going back to NYC and driving my cab.
Through it all, I am glad I decided to commit to this passion project of writing my memoir, From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall. Perhaps what I am trying to say in this too long ‘scribble scrabble’ is that every project, every job can be challenging. Each of us has challenges every day that we must take care of. I guess these are what we call “have – to’s”.
What I am suggesting is, how about choosing a passion project to get involved with. That kind of project can be to find a new job, a new hobby, a new group of friends. Of course you can write a book. Everyone has a story to tell!
A new project can be to learn how to dance, with or without a partner, or to volunteer for a cause.
A new project can lift you up. It can change your life for the better.
PS. Writing all this I am aware of many who have had and are still experiencing so many more life challenges than I ever had to deal with, to stay alive.
Each of you are involved with your passion projects and I admire you more each day for your dedication to life.
How many of you know what March 21st is? Turns out that it is National Single Parent’s Day. Don’t worry, I also did not know.
In my opinion, given the years I had raising my daughter, Laura, as a single parent, celebrating Single Parent’s Day is a big deal.
I am so grateful for every day that I was able to spend with my daughter when she was growing up. I fought legally to retain custody of Laura, and was lucky enough to avoid a legal battle with her mother, Heidi. Instead, we were able to come to an arrangement that put Laura in my care – from Laura’s Kindergarden years at “The Niche” in Seattle, until she finished sixth grade in Brooklyn at PS 29. I loved the years Laura and I had together.
Somehow, in caring for Laura I was more grounded in also taking care of myself. Becoming more careful with money and making sure to provide love and support for my daughter on a daily basis provided me with a real framework to also take cake care of myself.
Leaving Seattle during the summer of 1986, our first home in New York City was with Cousins Allen and Avima, in their apartment by Columbia University. Each day I looked for and eventually found an apartment in a busy, yet very colorful and even pleasant neighborhood in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. This was near a great elementary school where Laura’s friends’ names were Sameep, Iqbal, Jazz, as well as Chloe, Emily and Rebecca. I loved that Laura’s school was like the United Nations. I also liked very much being there, every day and night for my daughter.
I remember her birthday parties; sleep-overs really where Laura invited several of her friends over with their their sleeping bags. Late at night it was so cute to have bundles of blankets spread all over her bedroom floor and I can still hear them all giggling the night away.
Each year, in coordination with her teacher, I remember surprising Laura when it was her birthday. At some point during a school day, I used to just show up and suddenly burst into her classroom with a birthday cake, enough for all, as we sang Happy Birthday! Other times I also remember freezing with the other parents standing outside by the skating rink watching our children ice skate together.
During the time Laura was with me, those six years in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, I felt needed. Caring for her gave me a purpose, a direction in my own life.
I am eternally grateful to my family; Cousins Allen and Avima, for providing a home for Laura and me when we first arrived in New York City, as well as my Aunt Sylvia who was able and willing to take Laura in during those evenings when I had a rehearsal or performance. My parents also played a key role in our lives, visiting us on occasion from Los Angeles to help out when needed.
Looking back on my almost 76 years on this planet I have come to the conclusion that there are not too many moments of satisfaction more fulfilling than making the best of a challenging situation as a single parent and helping my child not just subsist and have an ok life, but to thrive.
I love re-reading parts of my book, From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall. A few of the chapters detail my time with Laura in Brooklyn. Many experiences still bring a tear to my eye, and I will never be anything but grateful for her presence in my life.
Happy Single Parent’s Day. My very best wishes and respect are with each of you who make a difference in your child’s life every day and every night.
I believe my first answer is right there, staring me in the face. Belief. I do what I can to keep a positive outlook on life and my body responds most of the time with positivity in return.
Making goals and having projects act as a kind of life force.
I have been to many, many places, played and recorded with some of the greatest musicians in the world. I am an Emeritus Professor, and also drove a cab and sold welding supplies to make a living. In all areas of life I have come to realize that the more I know, the more I have to learn.
Writing my memoir was one such experience. I had never even seriously considered writing anything like From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall. I wonder what I will be doing in my 80’s? Whatever it is I am doing, I vow to keep learning.
I am inspired by many others in my local community who are always there – mentally and physically. They walk, dance, play pickleball and paddleball, learn new languages, perform on stage for the first time, join a book club, engage in a new workout, volunteer. There are so many ways to keep growing and expanding life’s experience.
Thank you for listening. I hope to see you soon! If I don’t have a clarinet in my hands I will probably be with my wife, Barb, walking our dogs.
Some of you may already know that February 18th was unofficially declared “Pluto Day” many, many years ago when Clyde Tombaugh discovered this planet on this day in 1930.
Many people in and around my generation were confused and frustrated when authorities (namely the International Astronomical Union – I had to look that up myself) declared that Pluto was in fact, no longer considered to be a planet and would be renamed as a dwarf planet. Everything that we had all been taught in school regarding Pluto was suddenly thrown out the window. Pluto was not one of the nine major planets of our solar system, and just like Ceres the century before was suddenly given a new less appealing name and demoted to obscurity.
In many ways this reminds me of life as a musician. Many musicians are successful for only a brief period of time: an album, one song, a short stint as a first chair performer – sometimes just one exceptional performance that happens to be seen by enough of an audience. I have been blessed so far to have a long fulfilling life as a professional musician, but there were many times that I thought I might be about to disappear from the public eye just as quickly as poor Pluto.
I remember the Geneva International Competition back in 1972, when I had followed my girlfriend Emily to Europe in one of my first efforts to make a name for myself as a world-class clarinetist (read my book for more of this story!) At that time, I did not even make it past the first round of auditions. I felt humbled by what I saw as the greater skills and stronger repertoires of my fellow competitors. This was not the first or last failure that I experienced in performance auditions.
It was difficult to know that I had not been selected. I think the most important quality that I possessed at that time was an ability to brush off these feelings shortly after I was bothered by them, then continue blithely on my chosen path without letting past failures weigh me down. I feel that many people give up entirely, or at least become negatively transformed by a poor performance or simply a poor reception from family, or other critics. I hope that my readers remember that everyone views life through a different lens. Maybe whatever activity they were engaged in just went poorly that day. Doesn’t mean it will go poorly next time. Maybe the most recent critic just had a different arbitrary opinion that will differ completely from the next critic’s views! Maybe the person making the decision had a fight with their wife, or ate some bad salami for lunch!
I think the most important message I can offer to anyone aspiring for any endeavor is to keep keep moving forward. Just keep trying. Do not let life, or opinions, or individual experiences stop you from doing everything that you can do to be the best person you can be. Pluto is still out there. Still orbiting the Sun just like it always has, whether we choose to call it a planet, or a dwarf planet, or a plutoid. Pluto just keeps moving forward, despite popular opinion and populist labels. So too can we all keep orbiting our own dreams. I intend to!
It is Sunday evening, February 2, 2025 and I am watching the Grammys. It makes me think of my group, the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, of which I was a member for 36 years (1978 – 2014). Fact is, we won a Grammy – at the 43 rd Annual Grammy Awards in the category of Best Small Ensemble Performance for “Shadow Dances,” music of Igor Stravinsky, on February 21, 2001. I was one of the principal players on the recording. Over the years we were also nominated three different times for Grammys.
Orpheus started out (1973 – 77) performing mostly for free. In 1978 we got a big break. What I remember is that an orchestra canceled at the last minute in Carnegie Hall and we (Orpheus) were asked to substitute for them. We had been rehearsing, just in case something like that might happen, and when it did, we were ready. What a thrill it was to see and hear the stamping of seemingly thousands of feet and listening to the cheers from the audience as we took our bows. Maybe we were on to something.
As a member of Orpheus, it seemed that our career just took off after that concert. The following season, 1979/80 we went on a tour through Italy, Israel, India, Northern Europe including Vienna and Amsterdam. Deutsche Grammophon, perhaps the most prestigious classical music recording label in the world at the time signed us to a 70 CD contract and we made regular appearances in the music capitals of the world, from Tokyo to Vienna, New York to New Delhi for the next 30 plus years after that.
What is most impressive, in my opinion, is that to my knowledge, there has not been another large classical music ensemble in our country of at least 25 – 30 musicians that has gone from playing for free to reaching the very heights of the classical music world in terms of artistic accomplishment, commercial success and recognition, before or since Orpheus.
How did it happen?
In 1978, I remember meeting other musicians from Orpheus at Empire Szechuan Restaurant on the Upper West Side in Manhattan, 100th St and Broadway, around 9/10:00PM to discuss musical ideas. We ate quite a lot of cold Szechuan noodles – probably because they were the cheapest option. I also remember going over to my new colleague’s apartments, listening to their favorite recordings. I brought my favorites too. Truth is, although Orpheus continued to evolve in the years and decades to come, a lot of the talking and theorizing about how we were going to go about creating the orchestra of our dreams without conductor was pretty much in full swing by the time I joined the group. In the years ahead it wasn’t always clear how we were going to turn our ambitions, our ideas and ideals into reality, but we made it work.
It turns out that our recipe for success included: rehearsing a lot, having many great musicians in our group from the Juilliard, Curtis, Eastman Schools and others, with a little Marlboro Festival spice thrown in. That, and quite a bit of good fortune was all we needed. Today the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra is celebrating its 52nd year of making music!
You can read more about Orpheus and the musical life of NYC in the 1980’s and 90’s: Leonard Bernstein, Itzhak Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma, Andre Previn, Stockard Channing, Kathleen Battle, Yehudi Menuhin, the Marlboro Music Festival, and plenty of funny stories in my memoir, From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall, available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and most anywhere quality books are sold.
My very small but sincere tribute to President Carter is weeks late, but as everyone living in SoCal and many throughout our country know – unless they live under a rock – the fires here have been nothing short of devastating. Most of my family was relatively lucky this time. We just can’t do enough for those who suffered losses and for our fire fighters. I am in awe of the courage and heroism I have seen.
The first time I performed at the White House was for President Carter, his wife, Rosalynn, and members of Congress. President Carter was hosting a party as a “Thank-You” for all who worked with him during his presidency. I remember Thomas “Tip” O’Neill, Speaker of the House was there. It took place in 1980, right at the end of Carter’s term as President.
Our group of musicians came from the Marlboro Music Festival and we performed the Mozart Piano and Winds Quintet. After our performance both President Carter and his wife Rosalynn looked right in my eyes when I met each of them and they thanked me for the performance. I was struck by their sincerity. When we shook hands, I also remember being amazed at how soft the First Lady’s hands were. She certainly did not wash many dishes in the White House.
As for President Carter, in my opinion, he was a good president and a great man; perhaps even more successful as a humanitarian, a champion of human rights and a philanthropist in the years after he was president.
After the performance I had to exit in a bit of a hurry to speed back to New York and cover my shift as a cab driver that evening. I could not resist telling the first few passengers who got into my cab about my amazing day performing for President Carter in the White House just a few hours before. The people I was driving around reacted in different ways. Mostly they just rolled their eyes, nodded, looked at their watches, became fidgety and could hardly wait to get out of my cab.
This presidential performance was a memory I will always cherish, but at the time it did not remove me from the everyday needs of my life – putting food on the table and paying the rent.
I believe you will enjoy reading about Yehudi Menuhin as a young man. There was more to his life than just playing the violin.
If you have not already purchased your copy of From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall, you can do so by clicking right here. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the book and it has received rave reviews from an ever-growing number of literary and musical reviewers and readers. I am confident you will enjoy it!
For those just beginning this blog, please be aware that this is the second part of a story that began in my previous blog entry (below this current chapter).
Yehudi’s father takes the helm in Paris
By the year 1927, Yehudi Menuhin was 11 years old and residing with his family in Paris. His father was now present, having been gifted with a leave of absence from his San Francisco schools by his employers with promise of a greater salary when he returned, though he never did. Moshe Menuhin took to his new tasks in Europe with the same unbridled enthusiasm that he displayed for every other activity in life, according to Yehudi. Specifically, Moshe began to supplant his wife in some of the essential parts of Yehudi’s life. He handled trip organization and attended his son’s lessons while taking careful notes. These notes were reviewed in detail with Yehudi immediately after these lessons to solidify growth and understanding as soon as possible. This allowed Yehudi’s mother Marutha to begin formal piano lessons with Yehudi’s two younger sisters, Hephzibah and Yaltah, who quickly proved their own talents to one of the great Parisian teachers of the time, Marcel Ciampi, who described the family as an entire music school springing from Mrs. Menuhin’s womb. This relationship later bore even more fruit, as Ciampi eventually became a teacher at Yehudi’s own school.
1928 – Yehudi Menuhin and his sisters, Hepzibah (left) and Yaltah (right)
Yehudi’s first European Concerts
While in Paris young Yehudi and his sisters delved into learning French. Slowly the routine of their lives ate away at their homesickness for San Francisco. Every day was very similar, with music practice, then an outing in the morning, lessons and more rehearsal in the afternoon, then early to bed to begin early again – only seldom disrupted by longer excursions outside of Paris proper, and somewhat more frequently by attending evening Parisian concerts as they were able. His attendance at these concerts both widened and deepened the young Menuhin’s knowledge of music as he displayed a greater interest in opera and was enthralled by his first witnessing of Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony, conducted by Paul Paray, conductor of the Lamoureux Orchestra. Yehudi was given the opportunity to audition for Paray, who immediately invited him to perform Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole the very next week and the Tchaikovsky Concerto the next week after, marking Yehudi’s first official orchestral concerts outside of San Francisco.
The rest of the year continued to be rife with adventures that, although fascinating, would take up far more space than this humble blog will allow, so I encourage my readers to continue their own investigation into Menuhin’s childhood years themselves as we skip forward.
Back to New York and a fight for Beethoven
In autumn of 1927, Yehudi was residing in Sinaia, Romania, when the family received a telegram from New York asking Yehudi’s parents if he might perform in Carnegie Hall with the New York Symphony Orchestra, directed by the eminentconductor, Fritz Busch. Yehudi would be performing Mozart’s A Major Concerto at age eleven, and despite his desire to instead play Beethoven, his parents accepted the offer. When the family arrived back in New York City, Yehudi shocked Busch by making clear that he wanted instead to play Beethoven’s Concerto. Grudgingly (for Yehudi had actually been recruited by Walter Damrosch, the regular conductor of the New York Symphony Orchestra – not by Busch at all), he was allowed to audition for this performance in Busch’s private hotel room, where the guest conductor was quickly amazed by the young violinist’s talent. The concert was altered, and Yehudi was given the opportunity to perform Beethoven as he desired. They performed two concerts, which succeeded well beyond their expectations.
A Stradivarius is given
From this success, Yehudi Menuhin’s career truly exploded. In 1928, he recorded his first few albums (a new science in the world of that time) at a church in Oakland, and began the first of his cross-country tours, from San Francisco to New York City. One of the attendees of his January 1929 performance of the Tchaikovsky Concerto was Henry Goldman who was known to be equal parts wealthy and generous with his money. Mr. Goldman invited Yehudi to his lavish apartment on Fifth Avenue and despite being blind by this time in his life, pointed out to the impressed young violinist many of the priceless pieces of art adorning his luxurious residence, going into great detail purely from his own mind’s eye. After this excursion, “Uncle Henry” told young Yehudi that he might choose any violin he wanted, no matter the price, and it would be his. After viewing a number of incredibly valuable options, Yehudi chose a violin he had seen just a year previously in San Francisco – a Stradivarius that he had never imagined he might afford himself, entitled the “Prince Khevenhuller” from the famed violin dealer Emil Hermann. Emil himself also gifted Yehudi with the Tourte bow that Menuhin used well into his later years – the bow worth almost a third the price of the violin itself.
Learning from Busch and sibling duets
1929 saw 13-year-old Yehudi performing with the Berlin Philharmonic under Bruno Walter and later studying with another of the pivotal teachers in his life, Adolf Busch, the younger brother of Fritz who had first conducted him at Carnegie Hall just two years previously. The Menuhins established their family home in Basel, Switzerland in 1930 and Yehudi began a regular concert season, performing five times a week across Europe. In 1932, Yehudi performed for the first time with his sister Hephzibah accompanying on piano. The duo continued to play together with some regularity for many decades.
In 1935, young Menuhin staged his first true “world tour” where he visited Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Europe, performing 110 concerts in 72 different cities. He was still just 19 years old.
A break in the USA
By 1937 the family headed back to the United States and California, where they established residence in beautiful, scenic Los Gatos. Yehudi was given his first “break” in a very long time, as he had no concerts to perform for much of that year. He took the opportunity to buy his first car (a Cadillac), explore the Santa Clara Valley and experience a taste of everyday life. By late 1937, Menuhin described himself as being “back in harness” and was touring again.
Love and Marriage
In early 1938, 21–year-oldYehudi wastouring in England. He was introduced to an Australian brother and sister, Lindsay and Nola Nicholas, who had attended his Australian concerts back in 1935 and were now on their own grand tour of Europe. Yehudi and Hephzibah fell in love with the close shared relationship between Lindsay and Nola and indeed fell in love with the siblings themselves. Shortly after Yehudi’s concert engagements took him to Holland, he phoned back to Nola in London and proposed on the spot. Nola was reticent at first as they barely knew each other, but Yehudi proved to be just as convincing with her as he was as a child with his musical instructors, and Nola acquiesced to his proposal. When Nola’s father was introduced to this new state of affairs, Hephzibah announced her own engagement to Nola’s brother Lindsay, and youngest sister Yaltah immediately announced an engagement of her own. Nola and Yehudi were married in May of 1938, scarcely two months after their first meeting in London. They had a daughter, Zamira, in 1939 and a son named Krov the year after.
1938 – Nola and Yehudi Menuhin
Relief for the troops
During World War 2, Yehudi, who himself saw his draft status deferred as the father of two young children, performed hundreds of recitals for the troops and relief organizations in the Americas, the Pacific theater, and ultimately in Europe. He performed multiple concerts a day for both troops headed to war and injured soldiers returning.
The end of an important chapter
By 1944, even as Yehudi continued to do what he could musically for the war effort, his marriage ended in divorce, partially because of his long periods of separation from Nola and probably due in large part to the youthful concept of falling in love with the idea of love, rather than the actual person involved.
On that sad note, dear readers, in an effort not to bloat this blog beyond readability, I have decided to add one more chapter, next week, to delve just a bit further into Menuhin’s adult life. I do not intend to cover his entire life, as there are multiple publications that already do that (including an excellent documentary recently done on BBC entitled “Who’s Yehudi”), but I feel there is still a bit more of the story to tell. I hope you are enjoying this information so far and I look forward to one last segment before we move on to another famous personage from From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall. As always, if you have any thoughts or corrections, or any strong opinions on who I might feature next, please feel free to comment below!
My name is Deryn Riggs. Some of you know me already. For those who do not, I am David’s daughter’s partner. I have been assisting along with Laura with several aspects of the post-production process of “From Cab Driver to Carnegie Hall.”
A new voice
As David has been concentrating on other aspects of his life recently, I have volunteered to at least temporarily assist with this blog. Due to the large number of world-class musicians and music aficionados existing amongst David’s contact list, I would love for this new incarnation of the blog to involve more audience engagement. In short, I would love to enlist your opinions and knowledge to further flesh out anything I present here today. I will be more specific with my requests further along in this week’s blog, when my requests (should) all make more sense. Thank you for your patience.
Ignorance is not bliss
I do myself have some history as a classical musician and I was blessed to have been raised with some modest musical knowledge by two (now retired) fantastic influences in the form of my parents. I however dropped out of the classical music scene in college and instead focused on other areas. Because of this choice, I find that when reading David’s autobiography I only have a vague familiarity with some of the world-class musicians that he refers to. I have improved my own education with a little historical digging on the Internet and further with some pointed questions to David himself at various times – all of which have helped me better appreciate the stories in his book as I deepen my own understanding. I thought I might pass on my newfound knowledge to those few of you reading this blog who, like me, may not have a complete grasp of all the players.
My goals (at least for now)
My intention, for at least a few blog entries, is to focus on the musicians and conductors. We have a comments section below this blog and I would be truly honored if those of you who have greater knowledge would consider sharing a personal story or two of your own – or perhaps just correct or improve my understanding of a detail I might have overlooked or misrepresented. If I receive a strong enough response, I intend to take these additional tidbits and formulate an additional follow-up blog for each personage detailed here to collectively improve everyone’s understanding and remembrance of these paragons of our musical memories.
Part 1 of 2 – Yehudi Menuhin
Yehudi Menuhin (Lord Menuhin, Baron of Stoke d’Abernon, 22 April 1916 – 12 March 1999) is popularly hailed as one of the greatest violinists of the 20th century. Although born in New York City, he spent the majority of his musical career performing in Britain.
Smuggled into greatness
Young Yehudi was”smuggled” by his parents to concerts in San Francisco beginning at age two, where he heard the concertmaster and first violinist of the San Francisco Symphony at the Curran Theater, Louis Persinger, play solo passages that left little Yehudi enchanted. In his autobiography “Unfinished Journey,” Menuhin writes that he asked for a violin for his fourth birthday, along with personal lessons from Persinger.
On Menuhin’s fourth birthday, he was indeed gifted a violin by a family friend – a toy made of tin. Shortly after attempting to play it, he threw it to the ground in a fury, proclaiming “it doesn’t sing!” Not long thereafter, he was sent a monetary gift by his grandmother from Palestine/Land of Israel, half of which he used to buy his first real “half-size violin” (the other half of the money went to a Chevrolet convertible, a parental choice although Menuhin himself was a lifelong automotive enthusiast). Later in his fourth year, Yehudi began formal violin instruction with his first teacher, Sigmund Anker, whom Menuhin described as more of a drill sergeant than a classical stylist. His parents had asked Louis Persinger to teach their son, but at the time Persinger’s schedule was far too full to add an unproven four-year old, no matter how many praises his parents sang of his nascent talent. Menuhin remained under the tutelage of Ankher until his first quasi-competition at the Fairmont Hotel in 1921, where he was somewhat disappointed with a second place finish.
Playing with Persinger
It was this performance, per Menuhin, that led his mother Marutha to contact Louis Persinger on his behalf for the second time and this time Persinger agreed to become the precocious five-year-old’s new teacher. Yehudi and his mother began streetcar journeys to Persinger’s Hyde Street studio twice a week (which later blossomed to three, four, then five lessons each week) and Persinger, who was not an experienced teacher of little boys, taught common sense and improvised practice techniques to maintain a five-year old’s attention. Menuhin continued to be a frequent attendee of classical concerts in his early years, fascinated by the great musicians of the day.
Louis Persinger with his student, young Yehudi Menuhin
First performance
In 1924 at age seven, Yehudi Menuhin had his first formal debut, performing de Bériot’s “Scène de Ballet,” inserted into a longer program at the Oakland Auditorium. He experienced his first appearance with a full orchestra a year later, in a performance of Lalo’s “Symphonie Espagnole,” then the next month performed his first full recital at the Scottish Rite Hall in San Francisco. By age nine, Menuhin was well-known and acclaimed in the Bay Area. He credits his parents, Moshe and Marutha, for their refusal to exploit this newfound fame. He was raised humbly with focus on family life, studies and learning. His parents avoided any possibility of newspaper interviews, private performances for rich socialites, or other such foolishness, strictly maintaining a normal childhood for their young virtuoso.
New York and Paris
In fall of 1925, Yehudi, his mother Marutha and Louis Persinger moved with Persinger’s performing quartet to New York City, marking Yehudi’s first long separation from his father, who was forced to remain in California to keep his very important career active as superintendent of all seven of the Hebrew schools in the Bay Area. Yehudi began classes at the Institute of Musical Art (later renamed Julliard) amongst far older classmates. At this same time, he was also presented his first Italian violin in dramatic fashion by Fritz Kreisler in Carnegie Hall. Less than a year later, tireless promotions instituted by his father brought Yehudi and his teacher both back to Califonia, then allowed the family to make the long Atlantic crossing to France, where Menuhin persuaded Georges Enesco to give him private lessons. Enesco, a Romanian composer, violinist and pianist, gave Menuhin lessons whenever his concert schedule allowed. Through him, Yehudi learned a delight for music beyond just the classical realm, and grew to be fascinated by the wildness and chaotic nature of Gypsy melodies.
-To be continued-
In the next blog, I intend to discuss the culmination of Yehudi Menuhin’s youthful success, his prolific recording career, and then his advancement to become the great conductor and teacher that he personified later in life. I hope these first details have been entertaining to read. I have researched and compared many sources across the Internet, but if you enjoyed this story, I highly recommend you read his autobiography “Unfinished Journey,” published in 1976, revised in 1996 and available at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and wherever else quality books might be found.
