Jascha Heifitz, violinist

When Jascha Heifitz was inducted into the Legion d'honneur in Paris,  it was French pianist Isidor Philipp who bestowed on Heifitz the cross of the Legion and the famous lapel pin.  Heifitz and Philipp had become good friends during Philipp's years in the US during the war. 

During those years in exile, Philipp served as accompanist to many great artists, including the violinist John Corigliano, Concertmaster of the NY Philharmonic.

I saw Heifitz give his very last public performance, when he played Bruch's Scottish Fantasy with l'Orchestre national in Paris.  It was sheer perfection.  Everyone wondered why he had decided to retire when his technical powers were still at a level that no one else could match.  He answered that question on TV, saying:  "I would like everyone to remember who Heifitz was."

There are many stories about Heifitz's stupefying technical perfection.  But the best was told to me by pianist Emma Boynet, who was the longtime associate of legendary piano teacher Isidore Philipp, seen below in this photograph with Heifitz that I found in Mme. Boynet's scrapbook. 

One year, Heifitz played a recital in Carnegie Hall, performing a series of incredibly difficult works--which he performed flawlessly.  The music critic of the New York Times, Olin Downes, instead of being thrilled (like everyone else,)  took Heifitz severely to task because everything was "too perfect."  Every note was perfectly in tune; the fastest passages were performed without the slightest slip; his tone was as big as was possible to produce on the instrument; he never hesitated when confronted with the most excruciating technical problems; his mastery of every detail was complete.  And that bugged Olin Downes.  Human beings were not meant to play so perfectly.  Heifitz' sheer perfection unnerved him. 

Heifitz was not someone who took a slight like that lightly.

The following year, he returned to Carnegie Hall to play another recital--this one filled with even more incredibly difficult works.  It was well-known to every concert artist in New York City the exact location of the row and seat in which Olin Downes always sat when he reviewed concerts for the New York Times.  As always, Heifitz performed absolutely flawlessly.  Indeed, as Isidore Phillip told the story to Mme. Boynet, and she to me, that night Heifitz outdid himself, dazzling the audience with a amazing technical display as rarely ever heard in that venerable hall.  But while playing the last movement of the last piece, Heifitz did something he rarely ever did--he played with his eyes closed.  The last movement finished softly.  As he reached the end, Heifitz opened his eyes and looked squarely at Olin Downes in his accustomed seat--and Heifitz played the final note audibly out of tune.  Then he walked off stage and played no encores.

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