Category: Memoir

I decided to go to Cleveland Institute for a Master of Music in Piano Performance but didn’t know who I should choose as my new teacher. I asked Prof. Scholz for advice. He looked at the faculty list and suggested that I studied with Vitya Vronsky-Babin. After arriving in Cleveland, I mentioned her name to a few Taiwanese piano students who had already been there. They advised me to reconsider. Nevertheless, I followed through with my request to study with Mrs. Babin.

A child prodigy, Vitya Vronsky was always an active performer. After forming a piano duo and marrying Victor Babin, he became the center of her life professionally and personally.^[1] His sudden death in 1972 affected her profoundly.

Trouble started at my first meeting with her. Based on my playing, she said that she would accept me into her undergraduate class–out of respect for Prof. Scholz and would keep me there for four years. She asked about my age. For whatever reason, I answered, “Twenty-third,” instead of “Twenty-three.” She took me to the office and told everyone there that I didn’t speak English so I should not be in the graduate classes.

Since I had tested out of most theory classes and could actually speak some English, I entered the school officially as a graduate student. I was determined to work hard and prove that I was able to do advanced work. After all, I graduated top of my class. There was no reason that I couldn’t turn things around.

I seriously miscalculated! Hours of work between lessons didn’t win me any positive comments. In fact, I became more and more confused of what I should do, technically and musically, as I was given contradictory information from week to week. Every time I walked into the small soundproofed practice rooms, the walls seemed closing in on me. Part of me started to lose confidence; part of me wanted to stay as far away from playing as possible.

Very quickly, I knew that I had to leave. Before taking any drastic actions, I sought advice from the school officials. However, Mrs. Babin’s words seemed to be the only thing that mattered. My only way out was to transfer to another school. Earlier I was accepted as a Master candidate at Kent State University. Wanting to attend a school with name recognition, I requested for a one-year admission deferral. It gave me a chance to make a smooth transition. After the end of the semester, Mrs. Babin found out indirectly that I was leaving. She graciously wished me all the best with my future endeavors.

Looking back, she probably had the best intention throughout the entire time I was in her studio. She might have wanted to keep me there long enough so I could fully absorb all the information. Unfortunately, her idea and my plan didn’t match. For the first time in my life, I had to accept my failure, face the consequences, and move on.

And, I walked away from Mrs. Babin studio having learned an important thing. During one of my lessons, while I was struggling with a soft passage, she said to me: “Think about how elephants walk. They are heavy but they walk quietly.” These words and image stayed with me since then. Later, Mr. Wustman would give me similar advice: “Use big muscle when you want to play softly. They have better control than the smaller ones.” Great minds think alike.

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^[1] Vronsky & Babin_Wiki

After completing my undergraduate study, like many students in Prof. Wu’s studio, I moved upstairs to study with Prof. Scholz. Earlier in his career, he and his brother Heinz, were an active piano duo, performing under the batons of conductors such as Dimitri Mitropoulos, Herbert von Karajan, Bruno Walter and Arturo Toscanini. They also collaborated on an authoritative edition of Mozart’s piano work. Heinz later became the President of Mozarteum in Salzburg.^[1]

If we were to meet today, I would have many questions on Mozart’s work for him. Unfortunately, because of my linguistic limits, there were few verbal exchanges between us back then. Prof. Scholz would mark fingering, phrasing and pedaling on my scores. I loved those moments when he would demonstrate. Free flowing music just came out of the piano. I learned a lot listening to his singing and playing.

Having lived in Taiwan for almost two decades, Prof. Scholz still preferred to prepare European style meals for himself. Occasionally, smells of freshly baked pastries would come through the kitchen door. I always imagined how he worked on batter or dough with his limber fingers. Sweet distractions.

I began preparing for applications to graduate schools in the States in 1982. When the time came to ask for his recommendations, he took a look of the forms and asked: “Why are you going? What do you want to do?” His questions frightened and confused me.

I was frightened that he might not write the letters for me. I was confused because, up to that moment, I never questioned what my next steps would be after undergraduate study. Under Martial Law, the establishment of new schools and degree programs was restricted. Whoever wished to pursue further studies in music must go aboard. It was a common path to get a graduate degree abroad, return to Taiwan and teach—hopefully in a college. Matter of fact, I had promised mom to earn a graduate degree quickly so I could get a good teaching position. Could there be other options outside of teaching?

I did not know if Prof. Scholz posted the same questions to other students in similar situation; I did not know if he asked me because he didn’t think I was ready. And, I had no answers for either question. With Prof. Wu’s urge, he did provide me with references. I chose to attend Cleveland Institute of Music. However, his questions kept coming back to haunt me.

In summer of ‘85, having received a Master of Music in Piano Performance, I went to see him while in Taiwan visiting family. I played part of Ravel G major Concerto for him. We discussed the possible influence of jazz music in Ravel’s approach. He asked me about my upcoming activities and plans. This time, I was able to tell him that I liked to continue to pursue academic research and to develop my collaborative skills. He nodded and said, “Now you know what you want.”

The most valuable lesson that Prof. Scholz taught me was to think like a professional. Musicians live to express and to serve. Every step that we take professionally and every hour that we spend in preparation must be purposeful.

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^[1]Robert_Scholz_(pianist)_Wiki