Rippling Steel

Rudolf Serkin, 51, is a tall, loose-jointed man with heavily calloused hands. Driving his tractor at his farm outside Brattleboro, he could pass for a Vermont farmer. But on the concert stage, he ranks as one of the best pianists in the world. Last week Rudolf Serkin was onstage in Carnegie Hall, playing Beethoven's "Emperor" Concerto, and showing a capacity audience the top of his form.

Camouflaging his stubborn shyness with a businesslike air, he sat and examined the keyboard closely whenever the New York Philharmonic-Symphony played without him. As his entrances approached, he grew tense, and his body began to sway and jerk to the rhythm. But there was nothing jerky about his playing. From his crashing fanfares to his softly rippling passagework, his performance had the strength and luster of blue steel. When the music ended, there was a moment of silence before the crowd recovered itself enough to start cheering.

Pianist Serkin was born in the Bohemian city of Eger. His father was a singer, so there was a piano in the house; young Rudi knew how to read music by the time he was four, made a public appearance at twelve. But papa Serkin discouraged a prodigy's career, and it was not until Rudi was 17 that he began touring as a member of Violinist Adolf Busch's ensemble. He made his U.S. debut in 1933, returned with his wife (Busch's daughter Irene) when the war began, and became a U.S. citizen.

He settled down on a rundown farm near Brattleboro, and asked himself, since he had growing children, why not buy a cow? Once he had a cow, it seemed a shame to buy hay, so Farmer Serkin raised hay. Then it seemed a pity to stop with one cow. Today the farm is a going concern, with 18 head of Guernseys. It is also a place to rest between trips and concerts: 26 U.S. performances this year, 50-odd abroad.

Although his records (Columbia) are bestsellers, Serkin hates to record. "The trouble with recording," he says, "is that once it is made, it cannot be improved. In a concert, you feel you can always do it better next time." Studio sessions are so painful to Serkin that he has been known to forget, conveniently, to take his music with him. As a result, the record people do everything possible to make their virtuoso comfortable, once even lugged their heavy equipment to Vermont, to immortalize Serkin's performance of the "Moonlight" Sonata.

Despite the stern trials of concert and recording, Rudolf Serkin loves music more than ever, but he misses the old days of chamber music with the Busches, and he has organized a Vermont summer school especially for ensemble playing. It brings him together with other musicians. "Being just a pianist," he says, "is a very lonesome thing."

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