Didn’t You Used to Be Ruggiero Ricci?
May 12, 2026
I don’t remember what we, the Guarneri String Quartet, played that night, or what the program was, but I do remember the party afterwards. Most often, the board of a concert series—usually a mix of mostly music lovers and passionate amateurs—hosts the after-concert get-together. Conversations might center around our performance, the music we had just played, or music in general. It would be impossible for me to count how many of these parties our quartet attended over the years.
But what stands out in my mind is the party given by members of the mathematics department of the college where we had just performed. Undoubtedly, many of them were amateur musicians. Without any serious proof, it seems to me that there is a strong link between music and the fields of math, physics, and medicine. I suspect that if you removed the music lovers and amateur players of these professions from concert audiences, attendance would be significantly lower.
No one is more passionate about music than amateurs, despite their technical or musical level. Albert Einstein, who was also an amateur violinist, once said, “If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music. . . . I get most joy in life out of music.”
I must confess that I’m somewhat envious of amateur musicians. Their unalloyed joy in making music is not weighed down by the task we professionals are burdened with, of having to walk on stage and perform to the highest standard. There was a doctors’ orchestra in Los Angeles, where I grew up, that may still exist. What the orchestra lacked in expertise it unquestionably made up for in enthusiasm. The doctors could enjoy playing at whatever low or high level they aspired to, and without pressure. Still, its conductor once had to implore the entire string section, “Those of you who are the proud possessors of vibrato, please use it!”
Doctors tend to enjoy music, and the same is true for mathematicians, who deal with abstract patterns. Fundamentally, our enjoyment of music has something to do with the recognition of these patterns. And wherever patterns show up, math shows up.
So there I sat at the post-Guarneri-concert party flanked by two mathematicians who plied me with all kinds of questions. Considering their background, I wondered whether they listened differently from the rest of us. Aside from abstract patterns, did they think about the collection of frequencies that make up harmony, or the twelve-tone scale we mostly employ in Western music? Apparently none of these, for the two mathematicians seemed intent only on expressing their joy of music and their curiosity about our lives on the road.
Then the conversation took an unexpected turn. “You musicians are admired, celebrated, always in the public eye, and people even come up to you on the street to say how much they enjoyed last night’s performance. We’re jealous,” the mathematician added, with mock sadness. “We sit and work in our cubbyholes, teach our classes, occasionally do brilliant work exploring the boundaries of the universe, and yet, aside from our inner circle of professionals, absolutely no one even knows who we are. For example, do you realize that the most famous mathematician in all of America mows his lawn every weekend and the neighbors think he’s the gardener?”
“That can’’t be true,” I blurted out in disbelief. The two mathematicians looked at each other impishly, and then one of them turned to me and said rather smugly, “Name one well-known American mathematician.” “That’s easy,” I responded without a moment’s hesitation, “Leo Zippen.” A look of utter surprise flashed across his face and then he turned to his colleague. “Leo Zippen was the author of The Uses of Infinity,” he said. “Not only that,” said the other, “he and his colleagues solved Hilbert’s fifth problem.” Then the two of them turned to me and asked, almost in unison, “How do you know Leo Zippen?” Nonchalantly, I answered, “Doesn’t everybody?”
In truth, the only reason I knew Leo Zippen was because he and his wife lived in an apartment across from ours on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, and we had become friends.
Of course, I quickly confessed to the charade. Who was the most famous mathematician in America? I had no idea. Still, the other side of our conversation, the glamorization of a musician’s life, seemed to need amending. After all, public recognition doesn’t necessarily have a long shelf life. I told the two mathematicians a story that the famous concert violinist Ruggiero Ricci used to tell about himself. In later life he was walking past New York City’s Lincoln Center, when a man came up to him and asked, “Excuse me, sir, didn’t you use to be Ruggiero Ricci?”
Perhaps the areas of music, math, physics, and medicine are next-door neighbors in the brain, but the two mathematicians and I left that subject undiscussed, as we joined my Guarneri Quartet colleagues for dessert.
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Comments
Think of you today, a great story I don’t know if you’ve heard about Marc and I just remembered, having heard the Wedding Cantata on the radio. Anyway, enjoyed the column as always, and the story about Ricci such a classic example of how many people split the idea of the artist from a person who walks down the street! Paula
Dear Mr Steinhardt,
While many mathematicians have or aspire to musical skill, you don’t say whether you’re good with numbers. More important to me, tho, is your prose: nimble and devoid of bombast, no matter how ineffable the topic or rare the experience. Yet, as any truthful professional will tell you, writing is like any other performance in that, assuming talent, one’s final version — even when satisfactorily fluent — is the product of often tedious preparation and sustained effort, neither of which is apparent on the page. So, thank you for another well-prepared, seemingly facile and thoroughly enjoyable read. I happily anticipate your next.
I attended a master class given by the late Menahem Pressler where he told us music majors to play more like ‘amateurs’. After a moment of letting that sink in , he further explained the etymology of the word from the latin and later the French word ‘amour’ which made me never forget how to play.
> Without any serious proof
I see what you did there. :)
For several years Ruggiero Ricci and I were together on the faculty of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor (with a nod to mathematicians, we used to abbreviate the address as A², MI). One year he performed the Beethoven Concerto with Gustav Meier conducting the UofM Symphony in the 5,000 seat Hill Auditorium — one of the 3 greatest live performances I have ever heard of that concerto. I came back stage afterwards to congratulate him and Ruggiero observed: “You know, the first time I played in this hall I was 12 years old; it was a benefit concert, $50 a ticket, and the hall was sold out. Now, fifty years later, it’s a free concert and the hall is half empty. That’s career for you!” (BTW, the other two great live Beethoven performances I heard were Yehudi Menuhin with Rostropovich conducting the National Symphony in Carnegie Hall and Paul Rosenthal with Jens Nygaard conducting the Jupiter Symphony in NYC.)
Dear Arnold,
What a delightful (and sad) story. I majored in music at the High School of Music and Art in new York City. I would say that a large percent of my class went into either medicine or science (perhaps math, as well). Very few of us continued in music, but I agree that there is a strong correlation between the arts of music and science, particularly math, which is also an art. My cousin Yosef Oreg, a mathematician, while studying at university, made his living playing accordion in The Green Onion/Bazal Yarok; the troupe included Haim Topol, Ephraim Kishon, etc. And when he retired, the troupe asked him to return!
love,
Judith
wonderful. Both my parents were medical doctors, and music lovers, My mother wanted to be a professional soprano, but my grandpa forbid it, so she became a doctor, but always wanted to be a professional musician, so she made all her children one.
Another very enjoyable story! Thank you SO MUCH for making these available to use, greatly appreciated.
I admit to being among the hoard passionate amateurs who’s passion always fails to make up for lack of skill. I knew Gabor Ormai, violist of the Tackacs String Quartet very well when I lived and worked as a research meteorologist in Boulder, CO. His amateur passion was science while mine was music. One evening we treated he and his wife, Gyongyi, to dinner and dessert. He and Gabor Takacs-Nagy were preparing to play the Mozart Concertante in E flat with the orchestra in which I was Principal Second. We were all talking about something or other musical and he became quiet, sat back, crossed his arms, and said “I envy you.”
I was stunned. Here’s a world-class musician that made angelic music for which people paid dearly to hear. I said “Gabor… Why do you say that?” He leaned forward and said “Because, you make music when you want to. I make music because I *have* to.”
I’m a scientist and I truly love what I do. I’ve thought long and hard about that evening for forty years. I thought it was among the saddest things I’d heard anyone tell me because it meant that somehow, the joy had been wrung out of what he did. I know how physically demanding and hard the work is and the injuries that often result (I’m an amateur but due to osteoarthritis and what playing I do, had to have my right shoulder reconstructed when all the tendons finally let go). I can only imagine how exhausting the constant traveling must be. But I cannot help but think that those of you who can make a living of your music must’ve gone into it because at some level you loved it. At least, that’s what I like to think…
Thank you for these lovely stories!!! Love Love Love! Hope you’re doing well! Always so thankful when thinking of you! Sending you a big hug!
You might enjoy my book “Music for the Love of It”, an historical look at amateur music-making. https://www.amazon.com/Music-Love-Episodes-Amateur-Music-Making/dp/9659278233
I will gladly send you a copy if you send me your address.
Beautiful little article!
I find chess to remind me of music- especially the patterns of how people tend to play- aggressively vs passively or passive-aggressively, as the case may be!
So well told. Thanks!
My favorite story in that vein is, after playing his recital Fritz Kreisler greeted well wishers in the Green room, when a young man strode up to the great man and stated, “Mr. Kreisler, that was magnificant; I would give my life to play like that.”, to which Kreisler is reputed to have said, “Young man, I did.”
The Longwood Symphony Orchestra is composed entirely of health-care professionals working in the Boston area. The orchestra was founded in 1982 and presents ~5 concerts annually at the New England Conservatory’s Jordan Hall. The repertoire is challenging (Mahler 1st Mendelssohn 4th..) and the performances compelling.
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