6. Top Soloist or "Trained Seal"?

The chubby eleven-year-old had just arrived in famed Carnegie Hall. He was to appear as violin soloist with the New York Symphony Orchestra. On his way from the stage entrance to the artists' room, he saw a large fire ax on a wall. "What's that for?" he asked a guard.

"To chop the heads off the soloists who don't play well," was the reply.

"And how many heads have you already cut off?"

"Oh, quite a few." said the guard, with a friendly wink.

Some in the audience that night—especially the music critics—expected the boy's head to roll. He was to play a difficult violin concerto by Beethoven. Critics felt that this great piece should be attempted only by a mature artist. For a child, the complicated fingering would be impossible, they added.

It was November 25, 1927. That night Carnegie Hall was packed. All eyes in the audience watched for Yehudi Menuhin, the eleven-year-old violin soloist, to appear on the stage. News of his talent had already excited the public imagination. There was an outburst of applause when he came out in his white silk shirt and black velvet pants.

In a businesslike manner, Yehudi took his place near the conductor and handed his violin to the first violinist to be tuned. There was a breathless silence in the hall. When the kettledrum announced the opening of the concerto, Yehudi stood calmly, so absorbed in the music that some people feared he would not come in on time. But, with only seconds to spare, he adjusted his violin and raised his bow. At the great singing tone that filled the hall, there was a gasp, a slight stirring—and then a deep hush.

It was only during the most difficult part of the concerto, when the soloist played alone, that the audience once more realized that a child was playing. Listeners marveled at his pure tone, expert fingering and wonderful trills. A burst of applause almost stopped the concert. But Yehudi played on, bringing everyone's attention back to Beethoven's great music.

At the end of the concerto, people shouted and yelled, many with tears in their eyes. The men in the orchestra rose and joined in the noise.

At this point Yehudi looked like the young boy he was. Catching sight of Persinger, he dragged his teacher onto the stage, pointing at him and clapping his own hands. Still the applause went on.

Even the newspaper critics stayed on to applaud Yehudi. He had to appear on stage in his coat, cap in hand, before at last the audience let him go home.

Next morning, music critic Olin Downes wrote in the New York Times: "I had come to the hall convinced that a child could play the violin no more effectively than a trained seal. I left knowing that there is such a thing as a great artist who begins at an early age."

Time, and Yehudi Menuhin, have proved the critic right.