
A Violinist’s Violin, Part Two
August 1, 2023
The first performance with my “new” violin was at a Guarneri String Quartet concert in Ann Arbor, Michigan. My old friend the violinist Charles Avsharian came backstage afterward to say hello. “Is that Joe Roisman’s fiddle you’re playing on?” he asked.
I smiled. “Word seems to travel fast.”
Charlie looked at me blankly. “What word?”
I assumed he was play-acting. “The word that I just bought Roisman’s fiddle.”
Charlie shook his head. “I had no idea. But as I sat in the audience listening to you play, I thought that the dark and smoky sound could come out of only one violin—Roisman’s.”
Charlie was speaking about the violin’s sound, not my playing, but how do you separate the two? For better or worse, as new partners, the violin would have to deal with me and I with it. In the best of all possible worlds, that dark and smoky sound I loved so much would bring even more life to the music.
But who had made the instrument I’d just acquired? The violin’s certificates of authenticity told an uncertain story. In 1926, Emil Hauser, the Budapest’s original first violinist, had had the violin appraised by Otto Möckel in Berlin as a Guarneri del Gesù. But in 1932 Rembert Wurlitzer in New York City appraised it as an Angelo Bergonzi, and in 1946 Jay Freeman as a Nicolo Bergonzi. When Hauser retired from the Budapest, he sold the violin to Roisman, his replacement, but as what was anybody’s guess.
With such confusion, I took the violin to two of the reigning rare-instrument authorities, first Charles Beare in London and then Jacques Français in New York City. Charles told me that the violin, except for its scroll, was the work of the Cremonese master Lorenzo Storioni and that the instrument, probably made in the 1780s, had been originally a small viola, so small that Storioni himself or a later violin maker decided to cut it down to violin size. Charles pointed to the oversized f-holes, which made sense in this context, to the artfully shortened length, and to the place where the wood had been removed from the center to draw the sides closer together.
Several weeks later Jacques Français served up an identical conclusion, but in addition made me an offer I could not refuse. Jacques explained that he had a del Gesù violin without its original scroll, and that in his opinion I had an original del Gesù scroll without. . . . Here he stopped in mid-sentence. “Excuse me, mon ami.” Jacques disappeared into the back of his shop and emerged moments later with a small Storioni viola scroll, which matched my instrument astonishingly well in both color and proportion. He said that this was possibly the violin’s original scroll, separated for profit years earlier by an unscrupulous dealer working in what amounted to a violin chop shop. Scroll and violin, about to be rejoined in harmony, would be the story of Tristan and Isolde retold.
I was now in possession of a glorious instrument with an astonishing, transformative history. A viola turned into a violin sometime in the murky, distant past appealed to me not only for its exotic story, but also because I’ve always loved the sound of a viola. As an entering violin student at the Curtis Institute of Music, I was required to take a year of viola lessons, and was immediately seduced by the instrument. So many words describing my Lorenzo Storioni—dark, smoky, deep, burnished—were the same ones I might use to characterize a viola’s sound. It pleased me to know that something of its original soul still dwelled in this violin.
For the next months, one concert followed another, and I slowly began to learn how to relate to my new pal, “Lorenzo.” Whether performing Beethoven with our quartet or a Mozart concerto with orchestra, the violin presented options, sometimes breathtaking ones, that I’d not necessarily thought possible before. Why not make a more aggressive crescendo to heighten the drama here, a sweeter sound to touch the heart there, or dare to get lost in the mysterious darkness of the lower strings? Yes, Lorenzo could do that.
And there was a fringe benefit with this violin: I loved its unusual shape, the top’s burnished gold color, and the back’s wild grain with a rather brazen knothole improbably placed on one side. Lorenzo Storioni’s instruments had none of the elegance and refinement of the earlier Cremonese masters; instead, his was a bold and sweeping style devoid of ornate details, yet highly artistic and harmonious. Storioni returned again and again for inspiration to Guarneri del Gesù, who died three weeks before Storioni was born on November 10,1744. The fact that my violin bore a resemblance to and sounded quite like a del Gesù was a testament to the older master’s influence.
From 1975 until our quartet’s retirement in 2009, I almost always performed on the Storioni. My feeble joke was to tell people that I no longer had to practice quartet parts: the violin had already learned them with the Budapest Quartet. Together with an occasional performance as soloist and with other chamber musicians, Lorenzo and I appeared together on the concert stage a good four thousand times.
Several years ago I retired from performing. After a truly blessed career as a musician, advancing age told me that the time was right. But advanced age has an entirely different meaning for fine string instruments. While visiting the Hall of the Violins in Cremona, Italy, I played on an Andrea Amati violin made in 1566. It was one of twenty-four commissioned by the court of Charles IX of France, and one of only four that have survived. After all these years, the violin retained a powerful yet highly appealing sound that would easily fill any large concert hall. In comparison to the Amati, is my Storioni middle-aged? A young over-two-centuries old? Or has the violin the possibility of a seemingly endless future ahead of it?
Earlier this year I sold my Storioni. I could have continued playing the violin solely for my own enjoyment, but it seemed a pity for the instrument not to be in the hands of a younger person who might perform for the next generation of music lovers. Was the parting poignant? Yes, of course. I’ll miss the violin’s dark and rich sound that gave such pleasure to me and so many others. And I’ll miss the wild, swirling patterns of its back, with the improbable knothole that any other fine violin maker would have avoided. Almost fifty years have past since Joseph Roisman agreed to sell me his violin. But did he or I ever really own this precious instrument, or were we merely its grateful custodians?
The Storioni could have gone to all kinds of people—an orchestra musician, soloist, teacher, amateur, or collector—but I learned to my utter delight that the violin was purchased by someone who intends to lend it to a gifted violinist in a young and promising string quartet. In this way, Lorenzo Storioni’s remarkable string-quartet story, which began almost one hundred years ago with the Budapest Quartet and continued with the Guarneri Quartet, will endure for the foreseeable future in joyful four-part harmony.
Lucky you, Lorenzo.
Lorenzo Storioni, violin, Arnold Steinhardt, violinist, Lincoln Mayorga, pianist
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Comments
Arnold, Do you feel at liberty to tell who the new owner is, the name of the young violinist who will be playing it, and the name of their quartet?
PS: I still bake the chocolate cake!!
Interesting story. So, what violin do you have now if that little girl who wants to meet you asks you to play?
Arnold Steinhardt, You have lived a rich life, full of adventures in music and with people. Thank you for sharing with us, in person and through your writing, so many of your wonderfully told stories.
(I was fortunate to hear some of your stories in person over meals at Marlboro during the summer of 2017 when I worked in Reception, and to have read and sold, during concert intermissions, your two books.)
I adore reading your pieces! I’m strictly an amateur that has been playing for over 50 y. When people ask how long I’ve been playing, my stock answer is “Longer than it sounds like.” While I play in a community orchestra (Principal Second), my true love is playing string quartets. To that end, I very much enjoyed your book “Indivisible by Four.” I cannot imagine life without my violin and without my music. I hope I get to read your thoughtful essays for many years to come!
Arnold (If I may presume a first-name) salutation): I enjoy your ‘Key of Strawberry’ postings very much. I know you only tangentially because of your Curtis association with my late sister-in-law, Ann Heiligman Saslav. Ann was the only sibling of my wife, Sandra Heiligman Nichols, two years younger than her late sister. Ann was an interesting person, gifted and never terribly happy. I liked her very much. She and I shared an interest in popular music of the 30s and 40s. I’m an amateur pianist. At 91, I’m not as nimble as I once was, but I’m still here. The background on your instrument was truly fascinating. It can not have been easy for you to part with your Storioni, but it is wonderful to know it will pass into the hands of someone younger and (hopefully) gifted. Keep the Strawberries coming.
If ever a violin and performer were matched more perfectly, I’d love to know about that marriage! Sadly, Fritz, who died in ‘62, never got a chance to hear this wonderful partnership.
What a beautiful sound and beautiful playing from you and the extraordinary violin! And I loved the interview with Steve Tenenbom on Sunday–thanks so much. It was great fun to relive memories of LA and the Meremblum orchestra, also brought to mind the Debut orchestra on live TV. $25 a week seemed a princely earning in’53-54–got me through my last year at USC! Enjoy your retirement!
Enjoyed so much your AVS interview with Steve this past Sunday! That was the first time I realized that your beautiful violin was actually a cut down viola!! As a violist, I was always drawn to Lorenzo’s rich colors but never imagined he started life as a viola! Thanks so much for publishing a more details. I was also fascinated with your musical beginnings in an LA public school music program. I have been a cheerleader all my adult life for public school instrumental music programs as this is how I started in 5th grade. Since my family had no musical connections or background, this was my only exposure to the world of music. 65 years later I am still grateful and still play (at least for a while longer). Love your playing and your writing! (Donna Clark, Indianapolis Chamber Orch)
A beautiful story, both parts one and two, with a happy ending. But what violin do you play now? I see you are participating at the Marlboro Festival this summer and I suppose you would need a violin there. A story about your “newest” violin would be interesting. Thanks for all your stories!
marvelous story; singers can’t change voices in the same way. However, different teachers can emphasize voices: that happened to me.
Love the article. Also unhappy to hear of Linc’s death. A sweet guy and a hellova pianist – we used to see him regularly in NY just across the border from Great Barrington. He was playing mostly jazz. Be well and continue playing. I still play with a semi=professional orchestra here in Ajijic, Mexico. We will see for how much longer.
Sometimes I wish I played the flute instead of the cello. An age thing.
And what did you have before Lorenzo dear
Arnold? The one I first heard you play in 1967/68?
Would also love to know where it might go next.
I had somehow missed part one when I read part two so of course my question about Lorenzo’s predecessor has been answered as I read the first part. I must say the Guarneri del Jesu never sounded “veek” to me! Bless you! Annabelle
Dear Arnold, your writing is like poetry that reflects the amazing experiences you’ve had in your life and are still having even in retirement. I’m so glad you had a career with your violin, but I also wish that you had had more time to develop your tremendous talent as an author. Please keep, your stories coming, and when you have the chance, put them together in a book that is for keeps ??
Dear Maestro Steinhardt, it’s an honor to even be able to write you. Thank you so much for your website and your recollections of an incredible life. I am a violist, now retired after a 34 year career in a symphony orchestra, but you and the Guarneri Quartet have had an enormous impact on my musical life. I heard you in concert in Fort Worth, TX many years ago and was able to meet Michael Tree afterwards, but alas, I didn’t get to meet you. I have admired your playing and your musicianship via your recorded legacy throughout my career, and I must mention specifically your recording of the Souvenir de Florence with Boris Kroyt and Mischa Schneider. It’s as close to perfection as I think one could ever come, in my opinion. Thank you so much for your talent and your musicianship and your humanity. You continue to inspire me to this day and I am so blessed to have the opportunity to tell you.
Warmest regards.
Thx as always Arnold. Stunned to just be hearing of Lincoln’s passing…big loss for the world, RIP. Somehow never knew he had an association with Zappa but not surprised in the least given what a boundary-less musician he was. You two together were something to behold.
Ich lese key of Strawberry so gern. Die geschichten bringen mich immer in schöne Gedanken über Musik und Dich, bzw. meine Erfahrungen mit dem Quartett. Und dann noch das schöne Bild von Dir; Du warst/bist ein schöner Mann. Dein Peter
I hope your musings will soon be available in book form. They make for great reading and for fine gifts to musician friends.
hey there Maestro Arnold, so glad you’re still around. I’m midway thru your unashamed bio. i had that hat while playing out in the mountains of OR etc. I’ll have to send you a pic of my way overboard cracked varnish ( I know there’s a better word for this) but playing practising in the high altitude sun is the result. we’re great fans of the Guarneri sorry it’s almost over?thanks for unashamedly sharing EVERYTHING????? DG viola SD CA
Dear Arnold, thank you for reminding me of this story. I still have my Storioni and I’m not going to give it up, my children will get it someday! I have enjoyed your posts so much over the years . I hope you are well and perhaps some day your quartet and mine can get together to reminisce!!! ( those of us that are still around.)
Sending love, martha
I hope you got my comments, they might have disappeared. Any way I still have my Storioni viola, my children will get it someday! Well I will reiterate my suggestion that your 4tet and mine( Cleveland) can get together and reminisce sometime. We are in Boston( those of us still around!). Love, martha
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