My father told me this story when I was young; I hope my retelling is reasonably accurate.

He had been engaged by renowned cellist Gregor Piatigorsky to perform at the white House during Franklin Roosevelt's presidency (year and program yet to be determined). They played to an assembled audience including the President, but comprising a a great majority who were evidently not necessarily great enthusiasts of the repertoire. Hence, when they finished playing the first piece, there was gentle, polite applause. They played another piece; the same response came again. At the end of their program, the applause was no greater.

Now, Piatigorsky, my father told me, was a vain man, and was incensed at this reception. After taking their final bows, they had a walk down a long corridor to their dressing room, with the cellist stalking fast and  indignantly. A young man called after them, "Mr. Piatigorsky! Mr. Piatigorsky!" The cellist stopped whirled around. A young aide had run up to them.

"What do you want?" snapped Piatigorsky.

"They would like an encore," replied the trembling messenger.

"No!" shot back the cellist, frightening the aide still further.

"B-b-but Mr. Piatigorsky," stammered the poor aide. "It's the P-p-president's personal wish."

And that is how Piatigorsky and Ulanowsky played an encore at the white House.

2. Treasuring Schubert

The following begins with an anecdote related to me by Alex Farkas (above). 

During the summer he studied with my father, he and a singer at one point chose to prepare Im Frühling. When they were to perform it for the class, my father walked to the piano and said he would demonstrate it first. He sat down to play, and, just before putting his hands to the keyboard, he looked up at Alex and said, "This song is a sacred trust." (See Remembrances.)

The song became a favorite of mine many years ago, and I finally learned the accompaniment myself. As in so many cases, I wished I could hear how Dad had played it. Alas, for some unfathomable reason, there appeared to be no extant recording. Therefore, in 2006, I was elated to find that it had been on the program for tenor James Schwabacher's NY Town Hall debut, from which recital several other songs had been recorded to his CD, If Music Be the Food of Love (Cambria). Given the tenor's light and high voice, I thought it might be a supreme performance.

It took about a year before I was able to obtain a CD from the original tapes. Unfortunately, the performance was not the best for either musician, some tightness in the tenor's voice evidently leading to a rather quick tempo and too little of the rubato and relaxed phrasing for which this song is made. Nonetheless, one hears the shades of the kind of voicing and phrasing expected from my father's playing, "all the more amazing, " commented Farkas after hearing the recording, "in that the l.h. jumps at that speed are quite difficult."

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