Syracuse Journal, November 14
By DOROTHY DUCAS
NEW YORK (INS) — The crowd was unusually restless. It was a warm, wet night; rubbers and umbrellas do not put music lovers into a receptive mood. And it was, besides, Blue Monday.
But the lure of a new child prodigy, a Yehudi Menuhin of the piano, had drawn a large crowd to the Town Hall last night for the debut of Ruth Slenczynska, 8 years old, of Sacramento, California. Gifted children, while they cannot compare with gifted adults, are amusing in the same way as the dog who stands on his hind legs.
With a "there-there, little girl" smile, the audience greeted Ruth as she stepped out on the state: rosy-cheeked, broad-shouldered, short of stature, and childishly conscious of her short white dress and white socks and shoes.
"Cute!" whispered a woman in the first row.
Ruth sat down at her piano and stretched her legs to touch the pedals. One hand smoothed her white skirt, shyly. The vast auditorium was very still.
Then, from the piano, issued a tremendous torrent. A Bach Fugue, Chopin’s “Winterwind” etude, Beethoven’s sonata "Pathetique" — poured out with masculine force, then, swiftly, changing in mood, with dramatic subtlety, and even — in Mendelssohn’s Rondo Capriccioso — with Fleine-like charm.
The music filled the air of the hall, beat against the walls, permeated the brains and hearts of listeners. Every head tilted forward, every pair of eyes was galvanized on the straining little figure at the keyboard of that baby grand. It was as if all but she had difficulty in breathing.
When it was over, an ovation such as has not been heard since the days of Enrico Caruso at the Metropolitan fairly lifted the roof. Critics who had come to patronize, reluctantly rose to their feet and made their way out, dazed, to write columns of amazed praise.
This was no talented youngster — this was something different: genius, which knows no age, sex or race.
Ruth met the storm of applause with a sweet little smile. She bowed, kissed her hand, even — when she got behind the wings — rubbed her eyes a little, like a tired little girl.
Those who heard the incredible volumes of sound set in motion by the little girl had the half-sanctified feeling of listening in on unexplored and unexplained mysteries. |