Saturday, 30 December 1995

Pianist Shura Cherkassky, 84, Pioneer of Romantic School, Dies



Photo courtesy Ivory Classics


By Allan Kozninn


Shura Cherkassky, a Ukrainian-born, London-based pianist whose individualistic interpretive style and affinity for dazzling virtuoso showpieces made him one of the last exponents of the great Romantic keyboard tradition, died on Wednesday at the Royal Brompton Hospital in London. He was 84.


Mr. Cherkassky was a small, gnomic figure who could seem unprepossessing and at times self-effacing in interviews and who routinely brushed off his reviews, both positive and negative. He declared himself wholly unfit to teach and described his musical education as sketchy, particularly in the realm of music theory.


He was likely to express, without prompting, his doubts about his ability to play Mozart or Debussy persuasively. And when he spoke about the musical world, the concert and record business or his own place in the scheme of things, he did so with a bemused, almost detached air.


Yet he was a completely commanding figure on the concert stage. His performances of standard repertory works by Chopin, Rachmaninoff, Mussorgsky and Liszt were invariably packed with idiosyncratic twists and turns that made his readings incendiary, and when he played virtuosic Strauss waltz transcriptions by Godowsky and Schulz-Evler, or essays in tone color by Balakirev or Hofmann, he could create the impression that he possessed more than two hands.


Because he was disinclined to play pieces the same way twice, he could be an erratic performer, and there were times when his interpretive experiments went awry. But listeners attended his recitals with the expectation that he would offer them something unusual, and he remained faithful to that expectation, both in his interpretations and his choice of repertory. He could be an adventurer, at times. Though renowned for his readings of 19th- and mainstream 20th-century works, he included music by Berg, Stockhausen, Messiaen, Copland and Bernstein on his programs in recent years.


"I do everything by intuition," Mr. Cherkassky told The New York Times in 1978. "I even live by intuition. For some people it works well, and for some people it would be a disaster. I mean, I can't really recommend what I do for others, because everyone has a different nature. And that goes for piano playing."


Shura Cherkassky was born in Odessa on Oct. 7, 1911. He was given his first piano lessons by his mother, and newspaper articles report extravagant early successes. He is said to have composed a five-act opera when he was 8, and to have conducted an orchestra in Odessa when he was 9, all in addition to giving frequent piano recitals and being hailed as a prodigy.


When he left for New York, at the age of 11, he already had a manager to look after his affairs. His hope was to study with Sergei Rachmaninoff, then his pianistic hero. But after an audition at Rachmaninoff's home on Riverside Drive, the young pianist decided to look elsewhere.


"I'll never forget that," Mr. Cherkassky said in a 1989 interview. "I even played his G-sharp-minor Prelude, and he was very impressed. He said, 'Yes, I'll teach you, but for two years you must not give concerts.' He also wanted me to study with Rosina Lhevinne, to alter my technique. My parents and my manager and I thought we should have a second opinion, so we went to Josef Hofmann, who said, 'No, you must perform, and I will teach you.' "


"I loved Rachmaninoff," Mr. Cherkassky added, "but I don't regret the decision not to study with him. Why he wanted to change my technique has been a puzzle to me all my life."


Mr. Cherkassky studied with Hofmann at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia for about a decade, and kept up his performing career. Comparisons with his teacher were inevitable. After his American debut, in Baltimore in 1923, a reviewer for The Baltimore Sun wrote that "not since the days when Josef Hofmann was a child prodigy has an American audience been so enthralled by a stripling in knickerbockers."


Mr. Cherkassky also studied briefly with Leopold Godowsky, and although he later said that he found Godowsky too fussy, he kept some Godowsky transcriptions in his repertory all through his career.


Throughout the 1920's, Mr. Cherkassky performed regularly in New York, Baltimore and other American cities, and was regularly praised for the vitality and freshness of his readings and the flexibility of his technique. He also undertook a tour of Australia and South Africa in 1927, but did not return to Europe to perform until 1945.


After World War II, Mr. Cherkassky's career took off in Europe and hit a trough in the United States. American reviewers continued to praise his virtuosity but expressed doubts about his depth as an interpreter. He moved to France and then to London, and his visits to the United States became infrequent. A return in the early 1960's seemed promising: Abram Chasins wrote in the 1961 edition of his book "Speaking of Pianists" that Mr. Cherkassky "has complete mastery of the piano, which he handles as though he were putting the instrument through its paces. He has a beautiful tone and commands every shade of color, every variety of touch and texture."


But the Romantic style in which Mr. Cherkassky excelled had fallen out of favor with American audiences, which had come to prefer a less overtly emotional, more literalist and intellectual performing style. That preference persisted through the 1970's, and when Mr. Cherkassky returned to New York in 1976 after a decade's absence, he was still regarded as an anachronism by all but a small circle of connoisseurs.


As Romanticism came back into favor in the 1980's, however, Mr. Cherkassky became something of a cult figure. His return was helped, unquestionably, by a series of recordings he made for Nimbus, an unconventional British company that allows its artists considerable leeway. Earlier in his career, Mr. Cherkassky had said that he disliked recordings because they were "too coldblooded." And indeed, a few earlier recordings lacked the fire of his live performances. But through the 1980's his recordings were plentiful, and included accounts of the Bach-Busoni Chaconne, Three Scenes from Stravinsky's "Petrouchka," the Liszt Sonata and disks devoted to Chopin and Schumann.


"At Nimbus," he said, explaining his return to recording, "they make you feel at home. You go to their castle in Wales, you stay for a few days, you walk in the park and you record when you want to. There are no red and green lights, no formal studio. They let you play as if it's a concert, and they don't make you start over whenever anything goes wrong."


Nevertheless, Mr. Cherkassky left Nimbus in 1990 when the larger Decca/London company agreed to record his concerts and to release archival performances recorded by the BBC. Decca/London released a recording of Mr. Cherkassky's 80th-birthday concert at Carnegie Hall, in 1991, as well as a set drawn from two 1975 recitals recorded in London.


Offstage, Mr. Cherkassky was a superb raconteur, and when he was in New York he held court for visiting journalists and musicians at his suite in the Hotel Pierre. He had a way of proving a point by seeming to deny that it had any validity.


"I'm a little tired of being called 'the last Romantic,' " he told one interviewer, and then went on to describe himself in entirely Romantic terms. "I just play the way I want to. And that can change from one night to the next.


Mr. Cherkassky never gave up performing, and was to tour Japan in February.


No immediate family members survive.


First published at The New York Times, December 29, 1995





Wednesday, 27 December 1995

Dean Martin dead at age 78. Comic crooner found success on film, stage, TV



Photo courtesy A Trip Down memory Lane


Dean Martin, the easygoing, highball-sipping crooner who left the hit comedy team of Martin and Lewis to become a member of Hollywood's Rat Pack and the star of his own TV variety show, died Monday at 78.

The singer died of acute respiratory failure at his Beverly Hills home, said his longtime agent and friend, Mort Viner.

Martin and Jerry Lewis were top stars in movies, television and nightclubs when Martin broke up the act in 1956. The smart money figured Lewis would prosper while Martin would fade.

But the dark-haired, handsome Martin became a much bigger star than he had been as straight man and singer, beginning with the 1958 war drama ``The Young Lions,'' which also starred Montgomery Clift and Marlon Brando.

With stardom came membership in the Rat Pack, the Hollywood boys club that included Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr. and Peter Lawford, with John F. Kennedy, Lawford's brother-in-law, an honorary member.

``Dean was my brother - not through blood, but through choice,'' Sinatra, 80, said Monday in a statement. ``Good times and bad, we were there for each other. Our friendship has traveled down many roads over the years, and there will always be a special place in my heart and soul for Dean.

``He has been like the air I breathe - always there, always close by.''

Among Martin's other movies: ``Some Came Running,'' ``Rio Bravo,'' ``Who Was that Lady?'' ``Sergeants 3,'' ``Toys in the Attic,'' ``Kiss Me Stupid,'' ``The Bells Are Ringing,'' ``The Sons of Katie Elder,'' ``The Silencers,'' ``Texas Across the River,'' ``Murderer's Row'' and ``Airport.''

He once cited the two greatest turning points in his career: ``First, meeting Jerry Lewis. Second, leaving Jerry Lewis. I became a real actor because of those two things.''

His smooth baritone on such songs as ``That's Amore'' and ``Volare'' made him a favorite with record-buyers. He was one of the few nonrockers to top the charts in 1964, when his ``Everybody Loves Somebody'' hit No.1.

He described his singing style with typical humor: ``I copied Bing Crosby 100 percent.''

Then he conquered television. In 1965, NBC first presented ``The Dean Martin Show,'' a musical variety hour through which Martin ambled with customary ease, often pretending to be soused.

The spontaneous appearance of the show was for real. Martin's contract stipulated that he would appear only on the day of the show and then have the most rudimentary of rehearsals.

``The Dean Martin Show'' was highly rated for most of its eight years. It was followed by ``The Dean Martin Comedy Hour'' in the 1973-74 season and then a series of celebrity ``roasts.''

More recently, a 1992 book by Nick Tosches, ``Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams,'' portrayed Martin as an ailing alcoholic who dined out alone every night.

Viner, his manager, countered: ``He loves to go out to restaurants. What he doesn't like is to be with a lot of people or attend parties.

``As far as his health is concerned, Dean is perfectly capable; his mind is all right. He simply decided last year that he didn't want to work for a while.''

Dino Paul Crocetti was born June 17, 1917, in Steubenville, Ohio, the son of an Italian immigrant barber. For the first five years of his life, the boy spoke only Italian.

Martin worked in the steel mills, fought as a welterweight and, at 16, delivered bootleg liquor around Steubenville. He also dealt cards in a gambling room behind a cigar store and began singing in clubs.

A band leader named Sammy Watkins hired the young singer and renamed him Dean Martin. He eventually was booked into New York, where his loose, mellow style began to catch on.

In 1946, Martin was booked into the 500 Club in Atlantic City, N.J., at $500 a week. Sharing the bill was a so-so comedian named Jerry Lewis who did a ``record act'' - mouthing the lyrics to records by famous singers.

``We started horsing around with each other's act,'' Martin recalled. ``We'd do anything that came to our minds, anything at all.''

The zaniness caught on, and soon Martin and Lewis were playing New York's Copacabana at $5,000 a week. Nightclub and television offers followed, along with a movie contract.

Lewis, 69, was reached in Seattle on Monday and told of Martin's death.

He was ``completely shattered and grief-stricken,'' said Lewis' manager, Joe Stabile.

They starred in a string of comedies, including ``At War With the Army,'' ``That's My Boy,'' ``Sailor Beware,'' ``Jumping Jacks,'' ``The Stooge,'' ``Scared Stiff,'' ``Artists and Models'' and ``Pardners.''

By the time of their last film, ``Hollywood or Bust'' in 1956, the two were quarreling in print. Martin quit the act.

``I was doing nothing and I was eating my heart out,'' he said. ``I sang a song and never got to finish it. The camera would switch to Jerry doing funny things. Everything was Jerry Lewis, Jerry Lewis, and I was the straight man.''

The two feuded for years, but Lewis surprised Martin at his 72nd birthday party in Las Vegas in 1989.

``Why we ever broke up I'll never know,'' Lewis said.

Martin replied: ``I love you, and I mean it.''

Lewis, 69, was reached in Seattle on Monday and told of Martin's death.

He was ``completely shattered and grief-stricken,'' said Lewis' manager, Joe Stabile.

In the 1970s and '80s, as Martin's film and television careers waned, he continued to be a top attraction in Las Vegas, Atlantic City and other high-roller venues. Onstage, he often sipped from a highball glass, adding to his long reputation as a boozer.

``I always watch Dean Martin's show,'' James Stewart once remarked, ``just to see if he falls down.''

Sinatra and other intimates claimed that Martin's drinking was exaggerated for joke purposes. Martin himself said he never drank to excess: ``I never get drunk because I can't face the consequences. I don't like to be sick.''

After a lifetime of good health, Martin ran into troubles in his 70s. In 1988, he dropped out of a tour with Sinatra and Davis because of a kidney condition. In 1991, he canceled an Atlantic City engagement because of what was described as intestinal flu.

Martin married three times. In 1940, he married Betty McDonald; they divorced after nine years and four children. His second marriage, to Jeanne Riegger, lasted 23 years before it ended in divorce. Among their three children was Dean Paul ``Dino'' Martin, member of a '60s teen pop group - Dino, Desi and Billy - and later an actor (``Players''). Young Martin was killed in a National Guard jet crash in 1987.

In 1973, Martin, then 55, married former model Catherine Mae Hawn, 25. His instructions for the champagne reception: ``I gave orders that no glass should ever get lower than half-empty.’”

Published by Roanoke Times, December 26, 1995