Some exquisite musical experiences come upon us with unexpected suddenness, and therefor have the impact of an electrical shock, lifting us up from everyday routine listening to the dizzying heights of emotional ecstasy, when, for instance, an orchestral conductor suddenly freezes, his stick in outstretched hand high in the air, motionless, while the players continue the performance, governed only by the will power of the great man, and by his hypnotic glances... or when a tenor, in the middle of a lovely aria, explodes into the frenzy of a high D... Yes, these moments linger in our memory for a long time and are worth being recalled in years to come. But here we would like to describe the emotions called forth by a musical event of a deeper lasting quality, anticipated long before it takes place, our whole being prepared for its reception... Better to start at the beginning:

It all begins with the rumor, scattered abroad in, let's say, March or April: Menuhin is going to play the Beethoven concerto next season! The thought alone is electrifying. What have we not read about Menuhin! "The prodigy of yesterday!..." "The Genius of Today!..." "The Immortal of Tomorrow!..." "He plays on the heartstrings of humanity!" And just the other day we heard on the radio a recording that he himself had conducted. And did he not play for one sold-out hall after another, forty years ago? And now he will play the Concerto by Beethoven, by the unchallenged champion in popularity with music-lovers everywhere! All-Beethoven concerts and all-Beethoven cycles are selling out like hot-cakes! And is not the Beethoven Concerto admittedly the most difficult assignment for any fiddler? Soon the rumor is confirmed - it is true - we can read it in the Season Programs Brochure: Menuhin will play the Beethoven concerto. Our skin begins to tingle just thinking of the victory by the Master-Violinist over the devilish intricacies of the Master-Composition. Of course we will be there when the bout takes place. But first we ourselves have to earn the privilege to be thus rewarded: We must write a check, mail it to the box office, then wait anxious days for the arrival of the admission tickets. Every waiting day increases the breathless joy with which we finally receive the priceless envelope. The tickets are stored away in the safest place we can find; occasionally we glance at them, confirm the date in our mind, knowing that THIS will be the concert overshadowing all others we have heard. We go on a vacation trip during the summer, every once in a while reminding ourselves that a great evening awaits us at home. We meet people from other places and find out that they will not have the good fortune of hearing Menuhin in the Beethoven Concerto. But we remain humble, vowing to ourselves to be ready for all the raptures which the great event will bring. And that great evening finally arrives. We had patiently endured all the humdrum music thrust upon us: concerts by the Juilliard Quartet, performances of Tannhauser and Makropulos, the all-Beethoven opening of the symphony season. Now the day that will make us truly happy has arrived. We have made the arrangements necessary to forestall any untoward obstacle to our festive experience. Dinner has been set for an earlier hour, the car runs fine, we ourselves are in top physical and emotional condition: we have been told through the grapevine that the rehearsal went fabulously, we were informed that Menuhin recently had phenomenal success in Europe, the rain had stopped the evening before the concert; and so we set out on our pilgrimage.

We arrive early so that we can find a good parking place, and we see other people heading for the entrances to the concert hall, attuned like-wise for the unforgettable hour that awaits us. In the hall there are hundreds like ourselves, and we know that soon there will be thousands (the concert is sold out, of course, because nothing less would do justice to the genius). We are now certain that ours is no flimsy enthusiasm, but the profound dedication to the higher power of great music. We simply cannot describe what we feels as the minutes on our watch pass by and the moment arrives when the tall figure with his violin appears in sight on the stage. We hardly can distinguish between our heartbeats and the deafening ovation the great artist receives. We feel gratefully rewarded for our patient and devoted anticipation, and we know beyond any doubt that we will live through a really magnificent human experience. He has tuned his violin and is standing there erect and proud, waiting for the cue by the conductor. The orchestra is busily playing already; there, he lifts his instrument... we cannot hear him! It seems he is not playing, he is just helping the fiddlers of the orchestra. How humble, and encouraging for the musicians! NOW we hear him playing all by himself. We look around us: most faces turned toward the stage, some reading in the program book: we too look up some pertinent information: the number of movements, biographical details, when was Menuhin here the last time? We cannot remember whether we were present at his debut appearance in this city. The music continues. Menuhin's vibrato is really wonderful. We feel like in a pleasant luke-warm shower. Some advertisement in the program book catches our attention: we have a vague association between a bank-ad and an unpleasant letter that came yesterday; but we brush it aside and promise ourselves not to be distracted from the experience of the great hour... What is this??? Is the orchestra on strike? No: Menuhin is tackling the cadenza, a fiendishly difficult thing, it seems: he works furiously, as loudly as he possibly can, really fantastic. By Kreisler, the program says. Kreisler, a fine composer, almost as good as Beethoven. A great evening.

The first movement seems to be over, because, from the upper regions of the hall we heard feeble attempts to get some applause going. The second movement soothes our soul; we decide not to be too severe with Junior, who will probably flunk his courses next February; also not to fire the cook, poor girl, she tries so hard and seems to be in bad luck so often... Shall we go to Trader Vic's after the concert? No table reserved! The second movement is titled Larghetto, that seems to mean slowly. No wonder it takes so long. But soon they will play the Finale, Allegro, which should bring us to the end with dispatch. His vibrato is really wonderful!! No, we better go to Blum's. If it rains again we not only will have to walk to the far end of the parking lot, but also have difficulties with parking near Blum's... Or Trader Vic's... His vibrato is really... wonderful The violin he is playing on... worth maybe $100,000, or at least insured for that much... we must increase the insurance on the cabin at Lake Tahoe, all the snow during the next few months, and burglars everywhere; If there would be a competition for violinists, Menuhin would win, of course... we will win back, next Sunday, in Reno, all our losses from last summer... new spark plugs on the Buick, the Olds seems to be okay... why do they play so fast and so loud? Oh, yes, the Finale. It must be over soon. It is. An absolutely sensational success!! Menuhin is happy; so is the conductor, and all the players who are honored with a handshake by the great virtuoso. Nothing but happy smiles wherever we look, and frenzied hand clapping. Even our sister-in-law, Glorietta, whom we spied two rows ahead of us, and who is known never to pay much attention to music, applauds vigorously... the hypocrite. Menuhin has been called back to the stage at least seven times! If I describe it at home nobody will believe it; But it will be printed in the papers tomorrow. The reviews will be phenomenal. We will save them, read them to our grandchildren, to instill in them the feeling for true greatness. Most of the orchestra players applaud: it was an enormous thrill for them too. Not for this one, though, he looks bored and does not applaud. He probably does not like the Beethoven Concerto. Now Glorietta waves and shouts something. What?? Oh, splendid, she has a table reserved at Trader Vic's, and we are invited to join her! A wonderful, wonderful evening.