Harvey Shapiro. (Photo by Henry Grossman)

It is Jim Kreger, in fact, who supplies enough information in conversations over the next few days to paint a picture of this complex and fascinating man who celebrated his 90th birthday in June. Kreger began studying with Harvey Shapiro in 1970, when Shapiro came to Juilliard to teach at the recommendation of Leonard Rose (who was on a sabbatical to concentrate on the Stern-Rose-Istomin-Trio). Shapiro quickly became a popular teacher, and remained on the faculty when Rose returned.

“You could tell from the beginning that he was a very involved teacher—not that Rose wasn’t, but Harvey has a completely different style,” says Kreger. “He treats everyone differently, adjusting his approach to suit each individual. What he shows you will change, based on how you play, and how he sees you. Rose basically put his ‘stamp’ on each pupil; he would play it his way—which was great, of course—and then you would play it his way, too.” Rose, notes Kreger, also preferred to teach those with “a big talent who already played well,” whereas Shapiro welcomes the challenge of working with students whose talent might not be so developed. “He always feels that, if there’s potential, he can work with it and bring it out.”

Oddly enough, Shapiro had not done much teaching before he arrived at Juilliard. His reputation had been firmly established as a cellist in the NBC Symphony Orchestra under Toscanini from 1937-46 (the last three of those years as principal cello), and as the cellist in the Primrose Quartet (in existence from 1938-42), one of the great ensembles of the century. He also spent 16 years with the WQXR Quartet, associated with the New York radio station. Commercial recordings of these ensembles are few, as they performed primarily for live broadcast. (A two-CD set of the Primrose Quartet’s complete recordings—all made in 1940-41—was reissued by Biddulph in the early ’90s, before the label went into Chapter 11. Kreger is trying to track down a warehouse that might still hold some remaining stock.)

When broadcast work for classical musicians evaporated, Shapiro worked as a “studio musician” for major record companies (Victor, Columbia, U.S. Decca). When that work shifted to Europe, Shapiro—a confirmed New Yorker—supported himself with lucrative commercial work before being hired by his alma mater to teach.

Though his public performances are rare, they reveal that Shapiro is still in full command of his powers. A concert in Munich a few years ago drew reviews that compared him to Casals and invoked “the golden age of cello playing.” That performance was even more astounding in light of the fact that, about three months earlier, Shapiro had broken his hip in a fall outside a restaurant in Taipei. (He arrived in the emergency room on a stretcher, recalls Kreger, after a 20-hour flight to New York, for which he was strapped horizontally to a row of seats. It was actually the second time he had broken a hip.)

“That’s something Harvey doesn’t talk about. But how he deals with challenges and adversity—I’ve never seen anything like it,” says Kreger. Shapiro has battled arthritis for many years; he now performs from memory, since he doesn’t see as well as he used to. “That’s the real inspiration,” says Kreger. “He teaches you just by your being exposed to him.”

Though he has a reputation for sometimes raising his voice and using language in the studio that may cause the uninitiated to blush, Shapiro insists it’s in good humor—and part of the process of extracting the best out of his students. “He really knows what he’s doing,” says Kreger. “It can be very tough on someone who expects to get praised all the time. But later, you realize the value of everything he says.” Kreger recalls that his own earliest lessons with Shapiro were sometimes filled with anger and frustration. “But at the same time, there was something that I knew made me play better. Many times I would go home after a very hard lesson—knowing that, at the lesson, he really did get me to play so much better—and I’d take out my cello right away and play. And some of that carried over from the lesson, to my amazement. Of course, I lost some of it a day or two later, but some of it did stick. Gradually, each time, I retained more and more—and I didn’t feel that with other teachers.”

Shapiro also had a knack for functioning as a kind of “cello doctor,” says Kreger. “He would find the problem, pinpoint it, and then he would work on it. And sometimes that was extremely painful. Harvey doesn’t give up; he just keeps pounding away until he gets what he’s working for. A lot of teachers won’t do that, because it takes a tremendous amount of energy. But that kind of involvement is what gets positive results.”

Many besides Kreger would agree. Shapiro coaches string players of every kind, both at Juilliard and privately, day and night. It is not unheard of, says Kreger, for musicians to fly in from Japan, stay in a hotel while spending two weeks taking lessons with Shapiro, and then fly home. “He is galvanized by teaching, and I’m sure that’s one of the secrets to his longevity.”