Famous Pianists I Have Met…

7 years ago by A Pianist

Famous pianists I have met… Arthur Rubinstein was my first real hero. I heard him play Tchaikowsky Concerto in the Montreal Forum (ice hockey’s cathedral, home of the legendary Canadiens) of all places. I was just a kid, and we were very far away from the stage. I remember the image of him sitting there in the spotlight, and my inner conviction: “This is it, this is me…” That’s what life is all about, this amazing speaking that can come out of that instrument. Later on, the last time Rubinstein played in Montreal, my friend Bob MacAlear found out where he was staying (the Ritz Carlton of course), and waited for him in the lobby after the concert. I wasn’t there for this one, but the story goes that when Rubinstein and his entourage finally swept in, and Bob approached him for an autograph, Rubinstein, assuming Bob didn’t understand French, said to his companion, « Tu vois comment ils me faisaient de mal, ils ne peuvent pas me laisser en paix! » (“You see how they mistreat me, they simply will not leave me in peace.”) I myself never met my fist hero... I heard Horowitz four times in my life, but only met him once. It was when he played in Massey Hall in Toronto in 1979. My brother Noel drove all the way down to Toronto from Guelph to get tickets, and managed to get two on stage. I sat next to the keyboard and watched, my mouth agape I think for most of it; I was simply stunned, in awe of this elemental force of expression. Afterwards in the washroom someone said to me, “you really enjoyed that didn’t you! I could see your face from where I was sitting in the audience…” So I guess it showed. Anyway, I really wanted to meet him but the crush of people outside the green room was impossible, so Noel and I decided to go for coffee and come back a little later. We arrived back, and the last few admirers were just leaving. A big, burly bodyguard blocked the doorway. I meekly explained that I wanted to meet Mr. Horowitz. He looked at another plainclothesman inside, finally they agreed to let us in. “All right, just a few minutes!” I entered the room, Horowitz was sitting at a table, he looked up and met my eyes, and I swear there was a spark of recognition. He looked at me, there was something very penetrating in it. Then that moment passed and I began to behave, when I look back on it, in a very embarrassing fashion, like the typical gushing admirer. “Are you a pianist?” “Yes I am,” I managed to stutter out, although my inner being wanted to say, “Compared to you, I CANNOT say I am a pianist, but in my heart of hearts I wish to be.” Then, wishing to get ‘friendly’ and ‘relaxed’ with him, I started to blather some inanities about having seen his picture in Time magazine dancing at Studio 54 in New York: “So you like to dance?” God, how embarrassing! He signed my program, which I treasure to this day, I thanked him profusely for what he had given us that afternoon, the guard said “OK, that’s enough,” and we were summarily ushered out. His handshake was strong, normal… I can still feel it… I met Pogorelich a few times, the first being when he played the Chopin F minor concerto with the Montreal Symphony. Horowitz was a pure artistic being. I don’t care what anyone says about his private life, he was all musician, a great and dedicated artist… Pogorelich a charismatic being as well – I remember one of the most impressive moments of that performance was when he came back to take his bows, he just stood there and seemed to drink the applause in, it was like food for him – you could see him swelling up with some aristocratic pride that, strangely enough, was genuine and not overdone. It was a kind of love-feast, a nice, memorable moment. I met Ashkenazy many times after concerts, another very kind, unassuming man – a musician truly dedicated to his art. Pollini as well. And Kristian Zimmerman... I met Petrov once, that was amazing because his hand was humungous. We all worry about our hands, Ronald Turini enjoys a good game of ping pong but won't risk playing anything more strenuous. But Petrov’s game is tennis, and you can see he has no trouble at all hanging on to that racket… I remember a recital of Zoltan Koscis in Montreal where he played one of the last Schubert sonatas, the A minor. That was one of the rare performances when the playing was so great, the philosophical meaning was so plain and apparent that it took precedence over the beauty of the mere notes. You could sense Schubert’s awareness of approaching death, his reluctance to face it, his agony, and finally something more uplifting than resignation – a real, subtle apotheosis. I went backstage to thank him, but what can you say? You can’t really talk about something like that. He signed my program and I left him to his other admirers… I never heard Michelangeli, nor Richter nor Gilels, although they all played in Montreal… I met Lazar Berman in Budapest, where he was judging the Liszt competition. I was there coaching Misha Datsich, who was the youngest competitor, and Berman liked Misha’s playing so much that he invited him then and there to study with him in Imola, where Misha eventually spent four years. Berman was a loveable, tired old bear of a man, his wife was also a fine pianist. They were very complimentary about my Medtner Fairy Tale recordings…