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Van Cliburn Dies at Home in Fort Worth

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Legendary pianist Van Cliburn has died at his home in Fort Worth, Texas. He was diagnosed with bone cancer in August. The 78-year-old Texan soared to world fame in 1958 when he won the first Tchaikovsky International Music Competition in Moscow. It was the height of the cold war.  Cliburn returned to a ticker-tape parade in New York City, the only musician to ever receive one.

 

  • Art&Seek presents Remembering Van Cliburn.  Hosted and produced by Quin Mathews, the program is a look back at the life and legacy of legendary musician Van Cliburn. TONIGHT at 8pm on KERA 90.1.
  • The Cliburn: 50 Years of Gold airs at 9 p.m. Friday on KERA TV.

UPDATE: Cliburn’s long-time publicist reports the pianist was surrounded by loved ones. He is survived by Thomas L. Smith,  his friend of long standing. “Van Cliburn was an international legend for over five decades, a great humanitarian and a brilliant musician whose light will continue to shine through his extraordinary legacy,” said Mary Lou Falcone in a statement. “He will be missed by all who knew and admired him, and by countless people he never met

KERA reporter Bill Zeeble  offers this remembrance/appreciation:

  •  KERA radio story:
  • Expanded online version:

A tall, slim Harvey Lavan Cliburn Jr., was 23,  just a few years out of New York’s famed Juilliard music school, when the first Tchaikovsky competition beckoned. Here was a chance to further his career and visit a far-off place the Texan had dreamt of since he was five.

“I saw this photograph of the Church of St. Basil,” said Van Cliburn, recorded in his Fort Worth home in 2008. “It was just breathtaking. I said Mommy, Daddy, take me there. Oh surely son, yes.

“And of course I had heard famous stories about the Moscow conservatory, that just legendary place, and St. Petersburg conservatory. And to play on that stage where so many great famous people had performed was just breathtaking,

Photo: Van Cliburn Foundation

In April of 1958, Cliburn became one of those famed musicians. His performance of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto (right) was a stunner.

Stuart Isacoff is a music journalist, pianist, and composer. He says the tension of the times helped seal Cliburn’s status as an icon.

“He played like an immortal, he played like a legend.  He seemed to show them more of who they were than their own players were demonstrating.

“In some ways there was a perfect cultural storm taking place at that event. Because  it was the middle of the Cold War, the Russians had launched Sputnik, people like me were diving under desks at school in case the Russians dropped the atomic bomb on us. And there was a general feeling of tension and concern.”

Cliburn was dubbed the “American Sputnik.” That November, in the midst of an international concert tour, he came back to Fort Worth for a dinner honoring his music-teacher mother. One of the speakers had a surprise.

Cliburn recalled the story: “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a check here for $10,000.  And I wish for it to be first prize of a competition, international piano competition. I want it to be named for my good friend, Rildia B. Cliburn’s little boy, Van.”

A foundation was established and the first competition was held in 1962. But Cliburn shrugged off all the attention, saying he was just a musical servant.  Richard Rodzinski says the pianist took the word seriously. Rodzinski oversaw the Cliburn competition for more than 20 years. He’s now General Director of the Tchaikovsky Competition.

” ‘Serving’ is a big word in [Cliburn's] vocabulary,” said Rodzinski.  “He refers to Presidents of the United States who serve a term, a Queen who will serve  her people. He feels he is serving the purpose of being able to bring beautiful music as he sees it, from his garden to an audience.”

Cliburn’s recording of the Tchaikovsky Concerto went “platinum,” the first million-seller in classical music history.

John Giordano has been Cliburn’s friend since 1973.  For decades, he conducted the Fort Worth Symphony, and has been involved in nearly every Cliburn competition.

“He gets the sound out of a piano that sings like nobody I’ve ever heard,” said Giordano of Cliburn. “Opera is his favorite medium. So he emulates the voice and is cognizant of the way a singer would play a particular a phrase. Which ends up, whether people realize it or not, reaching into their hearts.”

Including the heart of Russian pianist Olga Kern, who won the Cliburn competition in 2001. Her musician-parents heard and loved Cliburn in 1958, and played his music at home.

“And I grew up on it, you know, and absolutely loved it,” said Kern. “I loved  how he transformed that music to a different level. He opened for Russian musicians how this Russian music can sound completely different, more melodic, more softer, more dramatic,  it  sounded so new and so fresh. It was incredible.”

The reverence among the Russian people persists.  Last year, for the first time since his 1958 victory, Cliburn returned to the Tchaikovsky competition as an honorary judge. He was mobbed on the street. Yet Cliburn was not without critics. In the late 1970s, the pianist withdrew from the public stage, Some blamed burnout, others said he had lost his touch. Pianist Veda Kaplinsky, who teaches at Juilliard and has served as Cliburn competition judge, has a different answer.

“He’s a perfectionist,” said Kaplinsky. “Which is why he eventually left the concert scene. because he was never satisfied with what he could do. He always wanted to do more.”

He did more behind the scenes. He endowed scholarships at various music schools. He funded some of the Cliburn Competition scholarships.

But he may be best remembered for his 1958 victory in Moscow. Four years ago, he recalled riding through New York City surrounded by cheering fans.

“As I was waving to them,  I was thinking,  isn’t this wonderful. Not for me, they’re honoring classical music.  I was only an instrument.”

Those closest to him say that modesty was the real thing. Before arriving in Moscow last year, he asked friends, in all sincerity, “Do you really think they’ll remember me?”

  • http://www.facebook.com/linda.crosson.92 Linda Crosson

    I admired him all my life. His Tchaikovsky win captivated me when I was a child and I always wanted to meet him. I wanted to shake one of the hands that had played that exhilarating music. I didn’t think he would offer his hand if I ever met him — I thought he would be protective. Finally I got the chance when he played for a small audience in the 1990s at the DMA, and his handshake was immediate, firm and gracious as one could ever be. I cherish that memory.