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Judith Clurman's interview with Leonard Bernstein's daughter ("Shaking a Fist at the Almighty" in the November Juilliard Journal) spoke to both my heart and my intellectual curiosity. Jaimie Bernstein Thomas was an ideal interview partner. It was a hard task for me to follow all the difficulties and the cloudy mood that colored the discussion (as it probably did the creation process of the Kaddish Symphony). The meaning of Kaddish, to me, is a poetical expression of Jewish suffering and grief. I believe that Lenny experienced those feelings during his struggle with his composition, beside other things that he encountered in dealing with such a problematic subject. I remember how much sweat he used to put into his conducting and lecturing, and I assume that the composing of Kaddish demanded much more. I congratulate Ms. Clurman on her coming back to this monumental prayer.
Aharon Shefi
Retired Director of the Givatayim Conservatory in Israel
I was greatly saddened by the death [on Tuesday, November 4] of my former Juilliard classmate and friend, pianist David Bar-Illan. A pang of nostalgia, though, makes me smile when I recall how we used to practice simultaneously (and illicitly) in an unreserved, unpaid-for practice room—he, knocking off a Chopin etude in chromatic sixths, while I struggled with a Paganini caprice in a different key.
Although we had made a pact to at least practice in the same key, this proved to be impractical, and the resulting cacophony had curious eavesdroppers knocking on the door. After many such interruptions by kibitzers, we finally had to barricade the door with a chair and play possum when someone knocked. (Once it turned out to be an angry administrator, Judson Ehrbar, but we were not penalized when he heard David's amazing renditionof a Liszt piece—a bribe, so to speak.)
We both had scholarships, but I soon lost mine for cutting orchestra rehearsals. David, on the other hand, was a brilliant scholar, and in L&M, while I noodled cartoons in my notebook, David would raise his hand and ask questions that had composer-teachers like Bernard Wagennar and Peter Mennin fumbling for proper answers.
I recall one instructor (who shall remain anonymous) who told the class that Beethoven was a "great developer, a genius of orchestration and harmony," but that "he never actually wrote a memorable melody in his life" [sic].
Instantly, from David came an audible hum: the last movement of the Fifth Symphony, followed by Für Elise.
"Yes, yes," stammered the teacher, "but how he labored over these … " Too late. David had our unanimous support, and a barrage of applause drowned out the embarrassed blasphemer.
Mostly, I will miss David's warm smile and his sense of humor. Many years later, I ran into him at a Horowitz recital in Manhattan. I reminded him of our practice-room-sharing days and asked if he could still knock off that Chopin etude in chromatic sixths. He grinned, put his arm around me and his index finger to his lips.
"Shhh," he whispered. "I am a politician now, and I haven't practiced for a week!"
(Mr.) Leslie Dreyer
(B.S. '50, violin)
Metropolitan Opera Orchestra
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