Retirement
July 15, 2026
Approaching the age of eighty some years ago, the time seemed right to retire as a performer. Better to stop now than risk various types of rotten fruit being thrown at me.
I was eight years old when I performed for the first time, in a student concert organized by my violin teacher. I played an eight-bar theme from both the Beethoven Violin Concerto and Brahms First Symphony. So nervous was I backstage that I dropped and shattered a glass of water given to me. But as I walked onstage my nerves vanished with the encouraging applause of parents and friends, and I played my best.
More than seventy years later I gave my last performances with dear friends and colleagues. We played the Dvořak Piano Quintet, and several weeks later the Brahms B Flat Major Sextet. At those moments I felt blessed to be a musician, and to have had such a meaningful career as soloist, orchestra musician, teacher, writer, and, above all, a member of the Guarneri String Quartet, which had performed for forty-five years on the world’s concert stages.
One performance differing from all the others still awaited me, however—Bela Bartók’s Sonata for Solo Violin, one of the most daunting and revered 20th-century works for the instrument. I had promised myself that before retiring I would learn and perform this remarkable piece. A few weeks later, after a mountain of challenge, I was able to play all four movements of the Bartók Sonata, not in a concert hall filled with people, but in my living room, empty except for Banksy, my dog. With the exhilarating experience of the sonata’s Chaconne and Fugue still ringing in my inner ear, I said goodbye to performing.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was indeed retired. Day after day the alarm clock didn’t wake me at an ungodly hour to let me know that a taxi would be taking me to the airport in an hour. There, after a quick coffee, I would board a plane to Des Moines, or Phoenix, or Baden Baden, or who knows where, stay in a Holiday Inn, or a Best Western, or a Sheraton, or who knows what, and play a concert that night. But not any more. Most mornings I was able to have a leisurely breakfast with my wife, Dorothea. And here I would like to thank the partners of peripatetic musicians who leave and return, leave and return. Not everyone can cope with a musician gone for as much as two or three weeks at a time, or home day and night for just as long.
An unexpected surprise did await me as retirement began. I no longer felt the necessity to play the violin regularly. Upcoming performances had always motivated me to practice seriously. With concerts no longer in my future, why should I even take the violin out of its case? At first, I questioned my lack of interest. The tender sound of a violin in my parents’ recording of the Beethoven Violin Concerto had brought tears to my five-year-old eyes. The violin’s lure had led me to spend years mastering its thorny difficulties, to revel in the instrument’s rich repertoire, and to thrill with having it as my companion in performance. And yet, when I listen to the deeply moving Beethoven Concerto now, things have changed. Yes, I still love the violin, but I’ve come to realize I love music more.
So what do I do with my days in retirement? Santa Fe, while a relatively small city, is bursting with things to enjoy: an outstanding chamber-music series, a fine orchestra, a world-renowned opera company, art, film, dance, and, through it all, the coming together of Native American, Hispanic, and Anglo cultures. I go to concerts, listen to music at home, hang out with family and friends, write my monthly blog, and sometimes just sit on my terrace and meditate on the breathtaking views that seem to stretch endlessly into the New Mexico horizon.
I’m often asked whether I miss our Guarneri String Quartet and the wonderful career we’ve had performing some of the most heavenly music ever composed. We’ve had our day of prominence, for which I’m extremely grateful, but now it’s time for younger wonderful groups to shine with their individual gifts. What I do miss is the guys in our quartet, and the inevitable jokes as rehearsals begin, the fierce battles over whether a simple ritard serves the music well, but, above all, their artistry. Sometimes, when I’m coaching young string quartets I’ll hear an individual of the group play a certain passage and think, ah, you should have heard how John, or Michael, or David, or, later, Peter played it. I do dream about the quartet from time to time. The other night I showed up for a rehearsal and found to my consternation that I didn’t have the music we had planned to work on. “No problem,” I said to my colleagues. “My music is at home and I’ll be back in no more than twenty minutes.” First, I couldn’t find a taxi so I took the subway, which decided for the first and only time to bypass my stop. When I finally got home, our building’s elevator was out of order. Needless to say, I never made the rehearsal.
After all these years, some habits of my former life stubbornly remain. Without warning I’ll stop in my tracks and think, “Oh my god, I forgot to practice today!” Then I have to talk to myself. “Steinhardt, you have no concerts anymore so you don’t have to practice.” And while traveling I’ll have these panic attacks when I can’t find my very valuable violin in an airport, on the plane, or in a restaurant. Again, I talk to myself. “Steinhardt, you no longer travel with your violin because you don’t have concerts anymore and your violin is safely at home. You are now a civilian.”
Recently, my eight-year-old grandson asked me to join him in violin duets for his class talent show. We played “Andantino” by Suzuki. The day of the show he had no musical suggestions but requested that we wear matching shirts, jeans, and orange shoes, the latter which I balked at. But never mind. We played well, the audience, mainly parents, clapped energetically, and both of us were very pleased. As I put my violin back in its case it occurred to me that for “Andantino’s” forty-five seconds in length I had come out of retirement. Did I enjoy playing with my grandson? Oh, yes. But after having performed literally thousands of concerts during my lifetime, did I miss the thrill of walking on stage, of making music, and of receiving the enthusiastic audience reception time and again?
Let me think about it.
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Comments
I,for one, am glad you now have more time for writing.
With abundant joy Arnold, we will be thrilled to see and hear you at Marlboro this 75th season. ??????
Dear Mr. Steinhardt, I am more grateful to you than I can say for the many, many of your concerts that I attended in New York City, Chicago and Charlemont, Massachusetts. Your music filled me with joy, hope and an ability to allow myself to open my heart. Now a senior citizen of almost 77 years, I continue to attend as many concerts as I can (exactly what I promised myself to do during retirement); the music sustains me and I need its benefits now more than ever. Those new, young quartets play flawlessly (and sometimes a bit too fast for me) but I miss the sweet beauty of the Guarneri Quartet.
Inspiring and encouraging, since I’m on the cusp of retiring. The greatest treat and honour for you to get to play duos with your grandson ! My music actually was left at home while passing through Portland on tour with Itzhak…I beat every traffic light in both directions and returned barely in time for the concert. The scariest, though, was in Moscow, where I stopped at a Finnish owned hotel to xerox some pages, left the briefcase with the bulk of the music in the car, and the driver left. The concert was in four hours & there was no one to call to borrow. A quiet panic set in… but an hour before the concert the driver showed up again, and there was the briefcase, music in tact ! He had gone off to drive other fares. Wishing you standing ovation dreams !
I do enjoy your stories. I learned about you doing my research on Music Mountain. My book is complete but I still enjoy your work!
Many thanks!
wonderful. Thank you for sharing
I am so glad that writing your monthly blog is one of your retirement activities. I have read all if them since you started and am now 86 remembering my Andantino playing daughter, son and grandson and granddaughter—having been their piano accompanist. THANK YOU for your career AND your retirement!
Orange kind of equals amber, and though I suppose it’s usually ahead of a red STOP, it does sometimes turn GREEN. Ivote that you start/continue to wear the orange shoes and thereby keep your options open. :)
What a lovely piece of writing! When I retire (which is very much nearer than the day I started out on stage) I plan to put my feet up & amongst other pastimes enjoy listening to recordings of the Guarneri Quartet! Thanks for your wonderful music making (& with your superb colleagues!)…& please don’t retire from your blog musings!
Very best wishes to you & heartfelt thanks for the music! Nik.
Odd that I emailed two violin related memoirs.. with familiar names in my past, Harris Goldsmith, High Fidelity Music critic, Eugene Lehner, my coach at Merrywood Music Camp..Stuart Canin, Samuel Gardner Diana Halperin, Setsuko Nagata et al. the emails–two were returned. One of your relatives originally referred me to your writing.. Best Regards, Shirley.. Grad NYC HS Performing Arts, Oberlin Con.. NYU. I am a blogger… piano as a metaphor for life.. How can I resend the emails to the proper address.
“steinhardt,you were able to play all four movements of the Bartók Sonata,” –wish i had come by on that day, but now
you can enjoy the movement of the spheres out there, and most likely, replay the bartok by heart at will in your head along with your sea of stage memories. marvelous. sandy
I am with you and smiling on all that you wrote,Arnold!
So sweet! Love those orange sneakers.
As I felt when the Budapest Qt retired, I did, and do, rejoice knowing I can still hear my(your) beloved Guarneri Qt on historic recordings. You will always be alive for me as long as I can hear you (hearing aids, while not perfect, are blessed accoutrements!).
Be well Arnold and enjoy retirement.
Oh Arnold what a beautiful piece and I love the picture of you playing
with your grandson!
I have found, to my astonishment, observing this question of “retirement” in great artists who were very close to me, that they morphed unexpectedly easily into a life no longer giving concerts. Rubinstein used to beg those close to him not to let him continue if there was any sign his high standards were declining. It actually turned out that some of his best concerts were his last and he made his own decision to stop when macular degeneration affected his eyesight. There was no pining or depression or any sign that he missed giving concerts. He appreciated the additional time he had to listen to music to travel for pleasure and at home would only rarely play any of his repertoire but would go eagerly to play a Polish folk song or Nursery song from his childhood. He loved going to concerts, opera and theatre and going to wonderful restaurants. Before taking me to Aida in Rome he was constantly playing excerpts and demonstrating harmonies to show me what amazing things Verdi was doing. During all that time he professed to be the happiest man!
Another one was Menahem Pressler who I think worked harder than anyone I know combining his many concerts as chamber musician and soloist with a very intensive teaching schedule in Bloomington. At 96 Covid struck which suddenly put an end to public performance and face to face teaching and travel. Not only did he adapt miraculously to zoom teaching but this also coincided with a drop in his energy to practice. All his life he had been an enthusiastic and relentless “practiser”. I would notice at home the head going to rest on his arms on the keyboard sooner. So his life too
gently and naturally changed without chagrin to a life of enjoying listening at home and watching all the movies he never had time to see during his busy life. When Covid ceased we would go to Wigmore Hall where he had so often played and listen. But when very weak, a few days before he died, he suddenly said to me anxiously,
“I haven’t practiced for ages”! I replied “Don’t worry, you will”.
When it isn’t one’s job, it should be one’s pleasure. When it gives you pleasure, it doesn’t matter whether you are retired or not, you just do it, as you did with your grandson. It looks like you may gotten the orange shoes and we hope you are wearing them when – they give you pleasure. When performing doesn’t, you shouldn’t. (You still write. So it must give you pleasure.) For the rest of us, there are the recordings of the Quartet to enjoy whenever we please. Thank goodness the then was captured to provide sound and sometimes light in the present.
Arnold,we were students together at Curtis.I have followed your successful career.Congrats for a life well lived.I have had a successful careertoo as professor of music at Temple University and a part time clarinetist for the Philadelphia Orchestra for 34 years.I also wonder why I feel the need to play my clarinet now, but I do it anyway.You put into words how I feel at this time.Lets enjoy our accomplishments and the wonderful life we have lived.Best regards to an old classmate.Larry Wagner
Hello – thank you for gifting us all with your wonderful musings which I so enjoy as well as your illustrious career in music. I am a former pupil from your Harpur days which if I remember correctly included tennis elbow and a custom shoulder rest which I should have taken into account when I foolishly played without a shoulder rest for a while.
Finding I prefer music tuned to 432 Hz I wonder if that is something you have played/performed in? Wishing you a wonderful retirement.
Hi, Arnold, Since I have reached the sum of nearly 82 years, you have given me
quite a lot to think about regarding retirement. It was wonderful seeing you and
your son and family at the 75th get together!
Stay well,
Michael
Such a timely and beautiful essay. I am in the earnest stages of contemplating retirement, which I’ve been mulling over for several years. Just last night I had a dream that I had forgotten my violin at an outdoor venue that we only see once a year. At first (in my dream) I panicked but then thought, “O well, the stage crew will see it and return with it”. I am choosing to interpret this as my, perhaps, making peace with the idea of retirement. So wonderful to come accross your essay discussing the same theme. Thank you for it!
This was delicious. Please do not ever “retire” from writing these wonderful pieces.
Thank you for all of ones past and the ones yets to come.
Great story. We can all identify with it, regardless of what we did for a living. I was an amateur musician, now retired from performing after 50 years of playing principal oboe in dozens of community orchestras and wind quintets. I share your wistful memories and occasional nightmares, although mine involve mainly unresponsive reeds. C’est la vie!
Dear Mr Steinhardt,
When I saw the subject line in yesterday’s message, I panicked. “No, not yet!” I thought, inadvertently regarding you primarily as an essayist rather than a musician who also writes about art and life.
Now, tho, calmer after savoring your latest, I’m reassured, knowing you’ll continue to share your memories and perspectives with us, your fortunate, enchanted readers.
Best wishes.
I agree with all the above sentiments. As long as your brain keeps working please do NOT retire from your monthly missives. They are wonderful.
Lieber Arnold, mein Vater hat mit über 90 noch täglich 3 Stunden Geige geübt und war unglcklich, dass er keine Partner für Kammermusik fand. Du könntest nochmal für einen Meisterkurs nach Berlin kommen. Ich werde unsere letzte Begegnung im Boulezsaal nicht vergessen. Es wäre sehr schön, wenn Du uns in Berlin besuchen würdest. Wir würden ein Glas Bordeaux zusammen trinken auf demselben Sofa wie vor 40 Jahren. Ich umarme Dich und schicke Dir herzliche Grüße. Deine Peter Und Monika.
We attend the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center and see all these wonderful young musicians, and I wonder how many of them have been to Marlboro and studied under your teaching. It’s great to see that chamber music is still flourishing and will continue even though you’re not part of the performance experience. My compliments to all the octogenarians who are now following your new career. I am one of them and enjoy every blog.
I am a violist. I’m coming to Santa Fe on July 23. Would you autograph a copy of you book, for my friend, the Violinist Sylvia Mitchell, and possibly have a meal with me at the
Tesuque Market? 707-806-9748. I heard The Guarneri Quartet play at Bowling Green State University, in 1972. Unforgettable!!
Thank you again for a wonderful blog. I am always entertained and often deeply touched by your writing. Your mention of the Bartok Sonata was very meaningful (to me) as I am especially fond of Bartok. (It’s how I found your blog, years ago, searching for commentary on Bartok.) I also enjoyed your telling of your recent performance and the pic with the shoe!
Thank you again for a wonderful blog. I am always entertained and often deeply touched by your writing. Your mention of the Bartok Sonata was very meaningful (to me) as I am especially fond of Bartok. (It’s how I found your blog, years ago, searching for commentary on Bartok.) I also enjoyed your telling of your recent performance and the pic with the shoes!
Dear Arnold,
What a wonderful way to feel about your life. I gave up performing and playing almost 30 years ago. And only now am I able to listen to some of the recordings I made in the past. I appreciate them more, just listening to the music. I no longer own harpsichords, just one upright piano, which I tinkle on, perhaps once a month or less. I still listen to music; in fact, my musical world has expanded to include non-western music, beautiful in its own way! Bravo Arnold. May you live a long, happy and equanimous life.
What a beautiful piece of writing. And so very truthful. Many thanks. Fond regards,
Ian
Wonderful story as usual. Regarding retirement, a friend suggested that the best activity to engage in is what one liked to do when they were twelve years old. In your case, I might suppose that would mean continuing to play the violin. I do keep thinking about getting my violin out of its case, but, fortunately for my wife, I have refrained from that thought.
What a fantastic, and touching story. Thank you. Chin Kinm
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