Following the Debussy competition in 1946 but before playing the debut concert, Pressler began studying with Madame Isabelle Vengerova, a formidable teacher who was born in Russia and had studied in Vienna with Joseph Dachs, Theodor Leschetizky, and Anna Essipova.
“I was in New York, and I played the Chopin F Minor Concerto at the Metropolitan Opera House as a benefit concert for Hebrew University,” says Pressler. “I was brought to her. She was at this time a teacher at both Juilliard and at Curtis in Philadelphia. She had Bernstein as a student and many others, Graffman, Lateiner, Rezits, Foster.
Fig. 5.1. Isabelle Vengerova. Courtesy of The Curtis Institute of Music.
“I had lessons with her for six months to a year at her apartment in New York. What she showed me, just in that short time—even if I couldn’t do it at that time—revolutionized my thinking, because it was, for me, the discovery of the wrist. It is always something that goes with the key, that plays into the key, like you have a shock absorber on a car, providing cushioning. She, being a student of Leschetizky, taught me her exercises. I saw that and used it and organized it so that it would help me. Everyone who studied with Vengerova came out differently, understanding it differently, and then found his way through her opening of the door, his own way of doing it. Okay, we all do it differently, and we all expect something different out of it, but it has helped me. It has helped [her other students], and it has helped my students.”
Studies with Vengerova came to an end when she heard, incorrectly, that Pressler was also taking lessons from Loyonnet. “I saw Loyonnet when he came to New York during this time, and he asked me to play for him and see what I had accomplished since I had last seen him in Palestine. And down in the basement of Steinway, I played for him. Someone must have told Vengerova about it, because she said, ‘You played for another teacher.’ And whatever I told her wasn’t convincing enough, so she wouldn’t let me continue lessons with her. She was famous for being difficult, but I really didn’t notice it until then.”
Soon after his break with Vengerova, Arthur Judson arranged for Pressler to study with the great French pianist Robert Casadesus at Fontainebleau in the summer of 1947. Though Casadesus was much devoted to performing the works of Debussy, Ravel, and Fauré, he also had wonderful insights into the German masters. Pressler’s repertoire for the summer included Brahms and Schumann pieces and Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata, Op. 57. Casadesus loaned his score of the Appassionata to Pressler so that he could mark the fingerings, and Pressler remembers that the score indicated Casadesus had played the piece more than 100 times worldwide. Pressler studied with Casadesus during that summer and later the two became good friends through Daniel Guilet, who had attended the Paris Conservatoire with Casadesus’s wife, Gaby. It was Casadesus’s teaching of Beethoven that brought Pressler new understanding of that repertoire. And Casadesus’s contribution to Pressler’s career also included an original composition dedicated to the Beaux Arts Trio,” a beautiful piece,” recalls Pressler.
Fig. 5.2. Robert Casadesus. By permission of Greco Casadesus.
During the summer of 1948 following Pressler’s debut concert in New York, the Steinway Company arranged for him to study with eminent concert pianist Egon Petri, a German of Dutch descent who was teaching master classes at Mills College in Oakland, California. Believed by many to be one of the greatest pianists of the twentieth century, Petri was described in Harold Schonberg’s The Great Pianists as “a superb technician, a musician of intellect, refinement and strength.” Petri had studied with Ferrucio Busoni and Venezuelan pianist Terresa Carreño, whose teacher, Georges Mathias, had been a student of Frédéric Chopin.
STUDENT:I have an article for you about Egon Petri, who I know was one of your main teachers. Would you talk to us about him and any other teachers or musicians who had an influence on your career?
PRESSLER:Yes, Egon Petri was a great pianist, a tremendous pianist. It is interesting, I was just now in Oxford and a wonderful musicologist and pianist spoke about one of the last pieces of Busoni, the six pieces [Elegies] which are dedicated to six different pianists; and one is dedicated to Petri and one is dedicated to Kestenberg, two of my teachers. But Petri was a tremendous pianist. His technical ability was unbelievable, and he was a great musician. A great musician, that means he played anything up to Brahms: the complete Bach, all the Beethoven sonatas, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, nearly all the Liszt, and Busoni.
There was one great weakness in him, which was that he didn’t like to play Schumann; it was outside his province. Petri was a great musician, but I didn’t consider him a great artist. He was a great pianist and he was a great musician and therefore a great teacher, too, because he let you do things, although he always criticized them. He would say, “You can do it, but don’t overdo it.” He would always say something. At that time I was very young and I always played with my face close to the keyboard, and he said to me, “Menahem, tell me, what does it smell like?” At that time I couldn’t get close enough.
But he was a great, great master of the keyboard, and he had these tremendous hands. The only other hand that I saw that was as beautiful and as great was the hand of Richter, that kind of a hand. But Petri was always secure, and he showed us six fingerings for the last movement of the Appassionata. It was amazing. And I said, “Don’t you get lost when you have to perform?” No, he would not get lost. He was always absolutely clear about what he was doing. But he was telling us that his first great, great success was in Russia. He went to a tour of Russia and played in Moscow, and he had an enormous success. And so, after one recital, he played the second recital. A week later he played a third recital, and he played a fourth recital; he played a fifth recital. When it came to the sixth recital, he didn’t have repertoire. And so he selected to play Schumann, the Symphonic Etudes.
So Petri sits down to play the Symphonic Etudes, and he forgets in the first variation. He started again, again it just disappeared out of his head. And he heard them yell the one piece which he played magnificently well, Schubert-Liszt, the Songs-he was famous for that. And so the public yelled, “Please play Schubert-Liszt.” And he told us, “So my life was saved.” He was a charming man, a delightful man, and he showed me, of course, many things that I learned and enjoyed. But, he could do everything. Therefore, if someone said to him, “How about rotation?” he would say, “Oh, that’s a good idea,” or “How about no rotation?” he would say, “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” There were never any difficulties for him.
Fig. 5.3. Egon Petri
“Steinway provided me a practice room with a piano that was actually Stokowski’s piano from Hollywood,” Pressler says. “They sent it from his home to Oakland, so I had a piano I could practice [on], and I did, six hours, seven hours a day. I was very, very, very religious. Petri was very nice, very, very nice to me. The first thing he said to me—that was right after the debut—he said, ‘What do you want to do here?’ I said, ‘I would like to study.’ ‘Well, what do you have to learn?’ he said. ‘You know it all.’
“He was a phenomenal pianist, and he would hear about this kind of a technique and then he would believe in that and he would do it, but it didn’t really matter because he could also do the opposite equally well. He had a fantastic memory. I mean, a man who knew the complete Bach so well, all thirty-two sonatas of Beethoven, the complete Brahms, the complete Liszt, complete Busoni, who learned the Rachmaninoff Third Concerto as an exercise. His recording of Chopin’s A-flat Polonaise sold well enough that he bought a house in California from the royalties.
“I studied the twenty-four Etudes of Chopin that summer, and all was in master classes. I came in with the Op. 10, no. 2, and I played it. And he said to me, ‘That was quite good. I would like it lighter and faster.’ Okay, so I went once more through. Now he says, ‘That’s quite good. I would like it lighter and faster.’ And of course at that time I was quite fresh, and I said to him, ‘Master, would you show me?’ And he sat down with his legs crossed, and he played the most fantastic étude. It was absolutely hair-raising. He actually gave me a great compliment in the end when he said, ‘You know, Menahem, I sometimes ask myself when I’m onstage, “What am I doing here?” You never do. You always play the music, and you’re so involved with it, and you’re enjoying it so much.’ ”
During this period of his life, Pressler was spending as much time as possible in Israel between concert tours. Sara Scherchen, an Israeli girl of sixteen, asked Menahem to teach her piano. Although he turned her down at the time, he became interested in her and the two married in August of 1949.
“The nice thing was, at the time we were married, Israel was already declared a state, and we were married in Jerusalem by the Chief Rabbi of Israel, Isaac Herzog, whose son Chaim later became president of Israel. Isaac had been an officer in the army while Sara was a corporal at the headquarters in Tel Aviv with associations to the United Nations, because she was good in languages. Everyone was sure he wouldn’t come but would send somebody else to do it. I used to play benefit concerts for his wife. You know, they would ask me, ‘Will you play a benefit?’ ‘Of course!’ As a young student, I was glad to have any opportunity to play. I played many benefits for Mrs. Herzog, the rabbi’s wife, and for Mrs. Ben-Gurion, the prime minister’s wife. So I thought somehow I could ask him. That he said ‘yes’ and that he came was a big surprise. And so, that’s one of the reasons the marriage has held up so well!
“We got married in Jerusalem, which, of course, now it has even more meaning, great meaning for us. You know, for 2000 years, the Jews were praying at the Passover [seder], ‘Next year in Jerusalem.’ So when I asked Rabbi Herzog—the State had just been declared and he was Chief Rabbi of the State—if he would marry us, he said, ‘Yes.’ But everyone in the family and friends said, ‘He won’t come. He’ll send a substitute.’ You know, ‘I’m busy this Saturday, I have something else to do. My assistant will do it.’ No, he came himself in person. You see, the knot held.”
Sara was born in Tel Aviv and brought up in the little town of Petach-Tikvah (which means Opening of Hope), and went to school in Ramat-Gan. She was the oldest of three and, according to Pressler, “the brightest and the prettiest, and all her life, has lived up to the highest possible standard.” “Sara started to study in Petach-Tikvah with a teacher who always said to her, ‘Play with feelings,’ even though she could barely read the notes, looking at every note. But she wanted to study, so she asked a friend who introduced her to me, and when I saw the way her fifth finger stuck out, and I said, ‘No, you’re not good for the piano.’ So that’s how it started, but I think she got even!
Fig. 5.4. Wedding Photo of Menahem and Sara Pressler, 1949
Fig. 5.5. Wedding Photo, 1949. Menahem and Sara are seated on the right. Moritz Pressler is seated next to Menahem, with Judith Pressler third from the left.
“We were married in Israel, but we left immediately for Holland. I had two recitals scheduled in Holland. I also had a concert with a fine orchestra and conductor in London, a benefit, I think, for the University, and I had concerts in Paris. So we actually lived for a few months in Europe.”
The two settled in New York, and soon thereafter, Sara mentioned to violinist Isaac Stern that Pressler was looking for a teacher. Stern recommended Edward Steuermann.
INSPIRATION OF EDWARD STEUERMANN
The other man that I found very inspiring, who was also a student of Busoni, was Steuermann. He was the most interesting man, one of the finest musicians Tve ever met. No one above him, not Richter, no one was a greater musician than Steuermann.
He was an immense, immense, immense musician; and I must say, one of the best lessons I had was when I was already teaching at Indiana, and I came to New York. He was teaching at Juilliard, and I met him at his studio at Juilliard to have lunch with him. And he said, “Menahem, I’m sorry. I still have a lesson to give. If you want, you can come in.” And so I came in and he gave a lesson on the Schumann, Humor-esque. It was a wonderful, magnificent lesson to a student who didn’t understand the lesson. The student wanted to know, “Is it better with the third finger or the second finger? Shall I play louder here? Can I wait on this note a little longer?” He didn’t understand that Steuermann really gave him the key into Schumann, which was absolutely beautiful.
And then I remember another thing. He was going to Israel to play the Schoenberg Concerto, so he had invited friends to his studio at Juilliard to hear him perform the piece. It was summer. It was hot, and there was no air conditioning. Now, if you know the Schoenberg Concerto, that is very difficult listening. It’s even more difficult playing, but it’s very difficult listening. So, Juilliard was hot like hell. Above, somebody practiced the organ, so there came the sound of the organ into the room. And here Steuermann was emoting with the Concerto, very deeply felt Concerto. And there was that organ, and it was hot, and you heard that music, and you thought, “It is living hell.” Then he finished and he said, “I want you to hear it again.” And I remember running away. I never told him that, because he was a difficult and very wonderful man.
Pressler began taking lessons from Steuermann at the Juilliard School on Claremont Avenue and 122nd Street in New York City. By this time Pressler was touring regularly and his own lessons continued for several years, even after Pressler began teaching at Indiana University. Steuermann was a great pianist, who in Berlin had studied with Busoni, as had Kestenberg and Petri.
Fig. 5.6. Edward Steuermann, 1956. Photo by Fred Plaut. By permission of The Julliard School.
“He was one of the finest musicians I’ve ever met. No one, not even Richter, was a greater musician than Steuermann. Even more influential to Steuermann than Busoni was Arnold Schoenberg, with whom Steuermann had studied in Berlin from 1912 to 1914. Steuermann became the greatest disciple of that school, the most knowledgeable. It was Steuermann to whom Schoenberg dedicated his Piano Concerto, and Webern wrote his Variations for him. Steuermann played the piano part of Wozzeck for all the conductors in the beginning because only he could read that score. He was an immense musician who had deep insights. No one knew Schumann or Beethoven more deeply than Steuermann did. He always compared everything a composer had written to the work that you played, which meant he could call on a quartet, on a trio, on a symphony, on a song that would compare to it. He was a difficult man and a difficult musician because he’d convince you to play one way and at the next lesson tell you to play exactly the opposite! But for me, he was ideal because he freed me to find my own way.
“Always when I had a new work, I would play it for Steuermann. I remember the Schumann Fantasie and the Kreisleriana, Beethoven’s Op. 111 Sonata, Chopin’s Second and Third Sonatas, Busoni and Schoenberg works, the Berg Sonata, the Webern Variations. I mean, I wanted to learn from him. These works were really from the horse’s mouth.
“But the thing was, he could never satisfy himself. He had great difficulties in his own performing, always forgot in a concert. He was very critical, enormously critical. And the one thing with him was, the better the student, the more critical he was; the less good the student, the more supportive he was. I mean, if you played well, it was very seldom that you heard, ‘That was good,’ because he always knew how it should and could be better. But then I knew some of the students that he was teaching who barely played decently, and he was the most supportive and would say, ‘That was excellent. That was very good this time.’
“One time after a performance, he was very angry with me. He called me the day after I played the Chopin F minor Concerto with the New York Philharmonic with Mitropoulos and said, ‘Menahem, I don’t want you ever to come back for a lesson again!’ Well, of course I asked him, ‘What’s the matter, Mr. Steuermann?’ He said, ‘You don’t do anything I tell you.’ I said, ‘That is not the case, Mr. Steuermann. I mean, I may have done other things too, but I do what you say and I do what I feel and what I believe in.’ Then I said, ‘Did you like the performance?’ And he said, ‘Yes, very much.’ So I said, ‘In that case, can I come and play chess with you again?’ He said, ‘Okay, tomorrow.’ And then I went back to play chess with him, and I lost. He was a very good chess player, but this time I wanted to lose, and we made up.
“I have never forgotten that because he was so rabid on the phone, but he must have felt—and I do feel even to this day—the deep admiration I had for him and for his knowledge and for the way he would show things. I learned from him, and I learned to understand, and I learned to look deeply into music. I really admired him, and now that I am a teacher, I admire him even more for his all-encompassing knowledge.”
New York became the Presslers’ base. The couple had an apartment on Eighty-sixth Street and Central Park West at the Peter Stuyvesant Hotel, where Artur Schnabel also lived. Other friends lived in the same neighborhood. Steinway made sure Pressler had a piano at his home, and Menahem and Sara attended many concerts during this time in New York. “Horowitz, Schnabel, Alexander Brailawsky, Myra Hess, Rubinstein, Claudio Arrau, Heifetz, Simon Barere [the phenomenal technician who died on stage playing the Grieg Concerto], many, many concerts.” Pressler and Sara enjoyed “many Saturday nights with friends, young artists, all of them. Seymour Lipkin, Gary Graffman, they all came to the house. We played, we talked and we discussed. It was a wonderful time to be in New York.”
Sara traveled with Menahem much of the time for the first two years of their marriage. But after the birth of their first child, Sara stayed home. Each year, Pressler says, he questioned how the next season would be, how long he would be away. “The first seasons were fantastic, but then after a while, another young sensation comes along.” Finally, the two decided to return to Israel, with plans for Pressler to teach at the Tel Aviv Conservatory (now the Tel Aviv Music Academy) and travel from there for concerts.
In America, Pressler had recorded many solos for MGM and in doing so had met violinist Daniel Guilet and cellist Bernard Greenhouse. The Presslers hadn’t been back in Israel long before Guilet telephoned. “Menahem, can you come for nine concerts in America? And to make the trio record for MGM that you wanted? Columbia is willing to give us those concerts.” “I said, ‘Yes,’” recalls Pressler. “That was really a most important step in my life.” So the two returned to America with their baby and resettled in a New York apartment.
It was while in New York that Pressler gained U.S. citizenship. “I am very, very happy and proud to be a citizen,” Pressler says. “I love this country for the opportunity that it has given me, and that’s why I have never minded to pay the taxes. It has always been a privilege to live in this country. It is a privilege to be protected in this country. It’s a privilege to make friends in this country.”
Though completely happy to have made the move to America and to have become an American citizen, Pressler says his feelings for Israel today are “as strong as they have ever been. As a country, it gave me an education, freedom, hope. It supported me, and I see that it has created dignity for all the Jews, if they like it or not, if they’re Zionists or not.
“The love is very great, but it is enhanced by Sara’s love. And also, even though we pay a great deal of taxes in America, we have taxed ourselves, or she has taxed me and herself, to support Israel but not to get any honors or be praised for it. She is always invited to recognitions, but she never accepts. She always selects things; she has many water projects, which are vitally important. She also supported the houses for children who come from North Africa and were mistreated and therefore had great psychological problems. She supported the poor children who needed books to go to school. She supported a clinic that helped them to learn how to brush their teeth and helped them with education and training, all that. She also planted trees, 500 trees to this one or that.”
Pressler reiterates that he and Sara are extremely appreciative of what Israel gave them and that they both still have a passion for their homeland. “She always says, ‘You have to be grateful, because they saved your life.’ She was born there, therefore, she is grateful. She refused any luxury for herself. I didn’t do that, not as much, but she did. It is a passion for us, a passion in our house, I must say. Sara spoke only Hebrew with our children. She had me only speak German, and of course, in school they spoke English. So they really learned to understand three languages.”
Regardless of the couples’ continued passion for their homeland, they remain thrilled to be in America. “And then, of course,” Pressler says, “the greatest thing that happened in our lives was coming to Bloomington.”
