Menahem Pressler has instructed hundreds of students over his fifty-year teaching career, most of whom have been enrolled in masters or doctoral degree programs at the Indiana University Jacobs School of Music. Some have been undergraduates, and some have studied for their Artist Diplomas. In the earliest years of Pressler’s teaching, students were routinely assigned to his studio. As the numbers of interested students increased, students would contact Pressler by phone or letter, indicating their desire to study with him, and Pressler would schedule personal auditions, at which time he would hear students play for ten or fifteen minutes and talk with them about their plans for the future. Students came to consider admission into Pressler’s class as personal triumphs, affirmations of accomplishment, and guarantees of future success.
Pressler comments that what he looks for, first and foremost, in prospective students is their love for music and their desire to dedicate their lives to it “so that, whatever life brings, they will be happy. By that I mean, if they are in a certain place and they teach there, I want them to be happy they found an outlet for all they know, for their love of the works, and that they can transmit that love to others.”
Pressler points out that he always takes on some students who he realizes will not be the best players but who might make good teachers. “I look for character, the attitude,” which he describes as “a sense of inner discipline, a force that will help the student succeed. You have to come with everything, with the love for it, with the desire to really devote your life to it.” He says he looks for coordination, to see that the hands are good. “And I look for intelligence, so that I know they will understand what I have to say to them. We must do anything to help a person find his maximum. How few do find it. I want them to be motivated and to continue after their degree, after getting a job, and so forth. I want them to keep their desire, no matter where they end up because that place where they are is the musical center for them. If you continue to live that way, you will make yourself happy and you will make others around you happy. You will not feel that you are just a poor pianist who makes a poor salary, but that you are a rich man.”
Because of increasing demands on his schedule, the selection interviews in recent years have been conducted not by Menahem but by his wife, Sara, whom he calls “an innate psychologist who really understands people.” After prospective students have passed entrance auditions into the School of Music, Sara interviews those who express the desire to study with Pressler. She does not hear them play but asks about their backgrounds and goals. Pressler says his wife “can discover in half an hour much more than I can by listening to them for ten minutes. She sees much further.”
It is additionally important to Pressler that his students are supportive of one another and reflect the camaraderie he experienced as a student among young musicians in Israel. “There is a wonderful support system in my studio from one student to the other. It always has been, and that’s what I feel is so vitally important. The outside world is hard enough, is difficult enough, and is supercritical very often without adequate knowledge. I have my students give master classes for themselves. They play for each other, and I want them to learn how to critique each other properly. We know what happens outside. We often see schools that are built like that, where one student speaks badly of the other, and it’s as if the world outside has been transferred into the school. Instead, the students should be protected, at least during the years of study, so that you get strong because of the support you feel, like having good parents.”
“Teaching is one of the most satisfying things one can do,” says Pressler. “You teach things that you know to people who would like to learn, things that I have tried and they work. I have tried also to teach the technical system that has served me so well. Today, at my age, I’ve never had tendonitis. I never had anything where I had to stop practicing, even though it was difficult to sit down sometimes. That part was worn out sometimes, or the shoulders would hurt because I would sit there for four hours, very intensely practicing. The thing is, I was always relaxed or free. Let me put it like a good tomato: the right mixture of sour and sweet, the right mixture of tension and at the same time release. I have discovered a lot through teaching. I have even discovered things about the piece through the student’s playing of the piece, not just because I knew it better but the student found a certain insight that I had not seen, and I was delighted. I really try to encourage what is in their personalities, their personal ways of expressing music, their strong points. And with that comes freedom.”
Fig. 7.1. Pressler in the studio, 1970s
Pressler realizes that every student is an individual. “When you have three students playing the same piece, they couldn’t all play it the same because they’re different. No, after a while you learn that each of the people that you teach has a fire inside them, that there are places that you don’t touch because it hurts them and it will hurt you. But that is not a given. It is not written anywhere.
That is also one of the reasons I don’t have any visitors in the lessons when I teach my students. Very often I get asked, ‘Can we come in for one of your lessons?’ I say, ‘No,’ because when you are alone with a student, that is different than when someone is there. You cannot say certain things in front of someone else because the student will accept from you like from a doctor. I may say, ‘Look, this arm is bad here. We have to get to the wound in a different way.’ Now when someone else is there, you can’t say that. You leave the wound a little bit, and you give an aspirin, and you say, ‘You will feel better tomorrow.’ Now I don’t do that in a lesson. It has to be between the student and me because there is a relationship that is built on trust, so you can really demand or say many things because the student knows the intention is for his good. That’s what any teacher should remember. It’s not a power play that you’re better than the student or that the student is less than you are because you know a little more. No, there’s always the belief that the student will be able to do it, to do something with the music and with himself, even though you have to criticize in order for him or for her to get that.
“What I pride myself with especially is that I taught my technical principles and the principles stay the same, but they are applied differently to different people because we have different physiques—long arms, short arms, big, small, heavy, no weight whatsoever. Besides that, we each have our own personality. And very often a teacher can be harmful—not that he wants to—but by demanding that all students do certain things, but this particular one cannot do it that way. You have to tailor your demands. You have to tailor your approach. With some I can yell, which I do, but with some you only speak very nicely.
“I think communicating with students is something you have naturally and something you develop. You love to speak to them, so that’s a need. You have something to speak about. You speak, and what makes it so much more pertinent, of course, is that you speak to the student about what he or she is. So the student wants to hear that, because that’s what he comes for. It’s not that he has to please me with his playing but that he has to learn something. So I have to learn how to speak to students, yes? I’ve developed that by, you could say, on the job training, and you hope that the student will learn to transfer ideas from one piece to the next.
“Very often when you know how a piece goes, you don’t actually have to make it clear to yourself in words because you already understand it. But when you have to say it to a student, you have to put it into words. You have to put your finger on it, and you have to explain, ‘This is this and this is this.’ And then, once you have expressed it in words, somehow you find a way of going a little further; and that’s where teaching has helped you understand. It becomes deeper in you by making it clear to the student, yes? And what comes back to you is a deeper clarification for yourself. Also, you find out through students very often that pieces that you thought you did not like so much, you start to like. You hear it, you teach it, you like it, you play it, and it becomes your specialty, so to speak.
“In a way, it’s what we have in a marriage with children. The children bring you immortality. So it is with my students. I give them, like a parent, the best I have found in the world of music. They open their hearts, their souls. They become my mental children. Through them, I will live longer, having given them the best to share.”
His students quickly realize the demanding nature of Pressler’s lessons and master classes. Pressler gives his all, and students must come to lessons or master classes prepared to do the same. Pressler’s daughter, Edna, describes the situation: “I have observed him teaching many master classes at Adamant, at Banff, or Ravinia, or in Germany at Kroenberg; and these have been professional pianists and nonprofessionals, senior citizens, and young people. One thing he requires is professionalism. Students must arrive on time, not a minute late, because he is always on time and he expects that in others. They must bring two scores, one for him and one for them. Even though he may have played the piece a thousand times, he still likes to look at the score; and it must be their own scores, not library copies. Also, they should bring their own pencils and a way of recording the lesson. They must know all markings. If he’s working with an ensemble, the members must allow enough time to rehearse together as an ensemble, not just as three soloists, and each person must know the parts of all the other players. These are the basic requirements. If these requirements aren’t met, then the lesson gets off on the wrong foot. There are times that I’ve wanted to warn someone so they didn’t start out with a disadvantage.”
IN GRATITUDE to TEACHERS
You know, we all know that playing is difficult; and the more gifted one is, the more you realize how difficult it is. And what gives music this wonderful impact and strength is that [pianists] feel that music has an enormous important function to make life worth living. We have many things: we like to live in a nice home, we like to be married, we like to have good children, we like to do all of those things.
But there is some part inside of each of our souls that is asking for some kind of nourishment. And nothing can give as much beautiful nourishment–well, of course, there are many, many things that will give people nourishment–but music does it without saying a word. It gives you these black dots, and these black dots give you a kind of fulfillment. And I find it very, very wonderful when people sit here and play in front of us and undergo the searing difficulty to play that and hear from me, “You have got to play all the notes!” Of course, he would like to play all the notes. I know that, and he practiced all the notes. But then, like all of us, you come in front of an audience and some of the notes seem to not want to be played.
A good teacher can find a way of coaxing students, of explaining, of encouraging. And, as a teacher, it is wonderful when one is able to help a student achieve something more easily. And I know that we all feel that gratitude toward our teachers, a kind of gratitude for being helped so that we will remember them always for good or for worse–and that better be for good!
The same applies for individual lessons as well. Pressler expects students to master every detail covered in previous lessons and to go beyond his instructions both in technical and musical preparation. He rarely gives praise during lessons: “If I don’t mention something, then it’s better!” A student can take pride in hearing Pressler say “not bad” following a performance.
The goal, simply stated, is technical and musical perfection. In Pressler’s words, “Every single note should sound. [One mistake] is because we are human; twice is unforgivable.” If students strive toward this goal, impossible though it is, students will be prepared for future opportunities. “Work and an opportunity will arise. But you have to be ready for it and capable of taking it. But very, very often we say, ‘Oh, but if only I had that happen to me, I could have done such and such.’ ‘I could have’ is a very lame excuse.”
Pressler abhors what he describes as “the empty phrase.” Jonathan Bass, former student and now on the faculty at the Boston Conservatory, says that Pressler “abhors a vacuum, so in other words, if you’re not really putting anything in, he’ll supply what’s needed; but he’d rather that you bring in your own ideas.” Pressler says, “I give you these ideas not so you will copy me but so you will develop your own ideas.” Bass recalls, “There were times that he would say, ‘I don’t care if you do it this way or that way, but do something.’” Edna Pressler agrees. “He’s thrilled when he hears something that he didn’t come up with himself.”
Paula Ennis, another former student, states that Pressler “is able to differentiate [among] five levels of accomplishment: good, very good, excellent, superior, and artistic. Many people cannot hear the difference between excellent and artistic, but he can and he wants you to.” This push for excellence means that lessons are conducted on the highest level of professionalism. Pressler has a keen sense of what each student is able to accomplish, and he pushes and prods them to achieve their best. They see themselves growing and progressing from being exposed to his high level of concentration and discernment of sound and musical style.
Pressler describes his technical principles simply as “the free arm, the transfer of weight, coupled with a strong finger technique. That is the goal. Only the way it evolves in each person varies. Everyone is different—the length of the arm, the height of the body, the relationship to the keyboard.” By collecting exercises from his teachers, both from the French way and from Vengerova, Pressler devised his own techniques to help others understand how to free their arms and so on. He also uses a circle-of- fifths scale cycle for single-note scales, octaves, and broken octaves. (See Chapter 8 for discussion of these exercises.)
For many of his students, Pressler requires that they practice exercises exclusively for two to three months before beginning to play repertoire. Usually, it is Pressler himself who has guided students through these technical drills, but sometimes he has relied on graduate assistants to teach the exercises, as much for the benefit of these individuals as for the student.
One of the tremendous benefits of study with Pressler is to be able to see and hear him demonstrate his myriad sounds and precise technique. Because of his many recordings, annual Indiana University performances by the Beaux Arts Trio, and occasional solo performances, it has been relatively easy to hear Pressler on disc and on stage. With approximately fifty Beaux Arts Trio recordings available, students can hear the master’s energy, sonority, and stylistic understanding through virtually the entire chamber repertoire with piano.
Even more valuable to the student is the direct reinforcement Pressler provides in lessons by modeling the depth of tone needed for melodies, suggesting fingering and redistribution of the hands, shaping the desired inflection for musical lines, demonstrating the voicing of chords, and using the pedals to create a multitude of effects. “When [Pressler] demonstrated,” recalled Paula Ennis, “I heard the sounds that he could make. I noticed how he did it, and it was always a different touch, dependent upon the musical context. He would caress the key to make a beautiful sound, and I heard that there was a difference. I remember in teaching Ravel’s ‘Ondine,’ he said to me, ‘Silver.’ And then I did it, so the technique was created by his mention of the word. I listened to his words and his metaphors and then my fingers and hands would just go there and try to create that sound I thought he wanted. He’d say, ‘Do you hear that sound? Once you know you can do it, you can do it again.’ So, what I remember about the creation of sound is hearing him play in the lessons. I’d listen very carefully, and then I’d try to re-create that; but I had to find my own way of doing it.”
Pressler often reminds students that lessons and master classes are ultimately preparing them for recitals, chamber music concerts, or concerto performances before live audiences, which, he says, “provide a stimulus, provide inspiration, provide a response. There is an enormous importance to a recital. A recital is somehow an end station in which, whatever the effort to learn those works, that effort has to come to a climax. But when it really comes into focus is when I feel that that particular student, through whatever I taught him, becomes himself. He gets his own face, yes? When I hear them perform, it’s very difficult for me. I can’t help but participate in the performance. I perform with them. I suffer. I have caught myself as if I were performing myself. I hear certain points coming that present problems for them, and I feel the problem very clearly; and if I can, I psych myself up so that the message goes to them.”
Many students have commented on the important role Sara Pressler has played in their lives over the years, describing her as a “calm force,” “a most cultivated and dedicated personality in whom Mr. Pressler seems to have found the ideal partner in life, musical affairs and his professional career,” “a giver of advice,” “always available to us, a friend, a mother, someone to listen, a beautiful heart, someone always in Mr. Pressler’s shadow, but always present and so reliable and efficient!” Her role for the last twenty-five or so years has been as a sort of studio manager, not only interviewing each student who has expressed an interest in studying with her husband, but literally “making all the decisions about who will study with him and who won’t.” Pressler says, “Sara decides who gets in, but I decide who stays.”
One former student, Stephen Mann, comments on Pressler’s trust of Sara with that decision. “She’s an excellent judge of character, and she has a really good feel for what types of personalities will work well with him, people who are teachable and yet strong, independent enough to take the pressures of being in his studio but yet are moldable, that don’t come in with all their musical ideas completely formed.”
In her time with each student Sara asks questions about practicing and personality, a process she describes as “completely extemporized. It’s a kind of free-flow of ideas, starting, interrupting, coming back. It always depends on what we have in common at the beginning of the conversation, and then it keeps on going in a natural flow.” Pressler says that Sara “understands personality and can see not only how a student will work with me but also how a student will fit in with the other students in the studio.”
Additionally, when Pressler occasionally invites a colleague from another university to teach his students in his absence, Sara is usually the one to set up the teaching schedule. She also manages Pressler’s summer master class schedules at the university, and when the couple hosts students in their home for dinners or receptions, she makes all arrangements, including those for food preparation. Pressler says, “I have been able to do many things because of the help of my wife who would take many things off my shoulders. She helped me because she felt that would make me happy. And it did—to a great extent.”
Pressler has referred to Sara as his “rock” and described how important it has been to have someone he can “always trust and rely on.” Pressler recalls that once, as he was leaving for a trip, he didn’t want to awaken Sara, so he packed his own suitcase. When he arrived at his destination, he discovered that he had failed to pack any pants. “So that’s the last time I did that!”
Another of Pressler’s former students, Alvin Chow, who teaches at Oberlin Conservatory, says, “Mrs. Pressler was always very much involved with the students. We all considered her to be almost a second mother. We’d call her, check in with her, let her know how we were doing. She was always interested in our progress. I think also a part of it was that Mr. Pressler was traveling a lot, and I still remember that Mrs. Pressler, when she met my parents, said that she wanted us to consider them as our second family. And she said, ‘I will be here to take care of them. I will look after them. Should they have any problems, they should feel free to call and just talk.’ And I think that she made that offer to everybody.” Angela Cheng, also on the faculty at Oberlin, recalls, “You definitely felt well taken care of from every standpoint, not just musical; and if you ever needed advice about how to deal with everyday life, you just had to ask Mrs. Pressler. It was wonderful.”
A leading reason that Indiana University has been able to attract distinguished performers to teach in the Jacobs School of Music is its policy of allowing faculty members to continue their performance careers as well. “You know, in a sense, it is a wonderful school to which marvelous students came to study with me. It was a very fine place to bring up children. My wife loved the university surrounding and took many classes. And I also felt that the privacy it gave me away from business and away from the hustle and bustle all around that business was refreshing and needed. Over the years we saw this little school in the Midwest transformed to one of the best music schools in the world.”
Pressler himself has been an important part in building the reputation of the school, in no small part for having invited other artists to teach there. Professor Glenn Gass says Pressler has made a powerful impact on the school: “[He] is one of the true giants who makes the IU School of Music such a special place, and we all get to bask in the glow created by having such a special artist in our midst. His presence and endless dedication to IU are a real source of pride for everyone connected with the school.”
At Pressler’s eightieth birthday celebration, former dean Charles Webb stated, “Thank you, Menahem, for changing all of us, for helping us reinvent ourselves as musicians and artists, for inspiring us through brilliant performance and the most perceptive teaching, and for leading us truly to the ‘thresholds of our own minds.’ We hope to be here when you and the world celebrate one hundred!”