Return of the Prodigy

The violin is a Jewish instrument. At least that is the popular conception in Israel, where, next to having a college professor in the family, the proudest parents are those who can boast about "my son the violin player." Indeed, the front rank of the world's best violinists is predominantly Jewish--David Oistrakh, Nathan Milstein, Leonid Kogan, Yehudi Menuhin, Jascha Heifetz, Isaac Stern.

This national affection for the violin, says Jerusalem Critic-Composer Yohanan Boehm, stems from the days when the wandering Jews of Eastern Europe adopted the instrument from the gypsies. "The violin was inexpensive," says Boehm, "easy to carry, and it could cry and sing like the human voice. So it best expressed the bittersweet emotions of the Jew in his homelessness." "The violin was the ticket out of the ghetto," explains Isaac Stern. "Pianos were scarce; woodwinds didn't mean anything." As a result, Israel teems with violinists. The tiny nation's 32 music schools are brimming over with aspiring young fiddlers, and hundreds more study privately.

Heavenly, Beautiful. In such a hotbed of violinists, a touring virtuoso must display truly extraordinary gifts to elicit any kind of favorable response from the discerning Israeli critics and audiences. Last week just such an extraordinary talent came to Israel--Itzhak Perlman, 19, on his first visit to his native land since he left to study in the U.S. six years ago. Crisscrossing the country for eight concerts, Perlman drew rapturous reviews: "heavenly, beautiful," "already a master," "in the front row of the very few great violinists of our day." Said Michal Smoira, critic for Tel Aviv's Haaretz: "His ability and general knowledge of music are so superb and so extraordinary that his technique and manual ability are taken as a matter of course. Beyond all that, Perlman creates a tonal feeling which sings in the ear and shakes the soul."

At Tel Aviv's Mann Auditorium, Perlman played the Sibelius and Tchaikovsky concertos. Hunching forward, lips pursed, he coaxed an exceptionally warm and blooming tone from his instrument with his dancing, stubby fingers and vigorous strokes of the bow. Afterward the audience of 2,500 cheered for 15 minutes and shouted for an encore, something they rarely ask.

Exposure Problem. Perlman is a polio victim. He hobbles onto the stage on crutches and plays sitting down. He was stricken with the disease when he was four and lived for one year in bed with his violin. As soon as he was able to get around, he entered music school. At 13, he won a scholarship to Manhattan's Juilliard School of Music, where he has been a student ever since. His parents, Zionist pioneers who came to Israel in the 1930s, moved to New York City with him. His father now folds shirts in a Manhattan laundry for $50 a week.

Exposure in the U.S. has been a bit of a problem for Perlman. His all-important debut in Carnegie Hall went unnoticed because it occurred during the 1962-63 newspaper strike. Then last April he won the prestigious Leventritt Competition, but in all the excitement the $15,000 Guarnerius violin he had borrowed from Juilliard was stolen. The instrument was recovered later in a pawnshop, but news of the event completely overshadowed his stunning victory. Barring other such misfortunes, the U.S. and the world will be hearing a lot more about Itzhak Perlman in the very near future.

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