Pump Up Your Book Chats with Biographer Steven Honigberg

Steven Honigberg As author and professional cellist, Steven Honigberg, complements his biography’s subject with a musician’s ear for language and the highest technical expertise. He currently plays on a 1732 Stradivarius (the “Stuart”), holds degrees from The Juilliard School, and combined with experience writing about legendary cellists, has produced a comprehensive first biography of America’s “first cellist.”

In 1984, the author was handpicked by cellist-conductor Msistlav Rostropovich to join the National Symphony Orchestra, a position he holds to this day. Within months, he graduated from college, presented his New York recital debut, appeared as soloist in Alice Tully Hall, and accepted the Washington job. And Leonard Rose died.

The author’s writing career began shortly after he settled in Washington, D.C. Most of his published work has focused on short biographies of renowned cellists. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, for a professional music trade publication, he wrote a series of columns under the heading “Remembering the Legends.” A few subjects were Leonard Rose, Pierre Fournier, and Frank Miller (who was Rose’s cousin and during Rose’s teenage years, a mentor).

His latest book is Leonard Rose: America’s Golden Age and Its  First Cellist.

You can visit his author page at http://leonardrose.beckhamhouse.com/.

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Thank you for this interview, Steven. Do you remember writing stories as a child or did the writing bug come later? Do you remember your first published piece?

My writing career began shortly after I settled in Washington, D.C. A majority of my published work has focused on short biographies on renowned cellists. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, for a professional music trade publication, I wrote a series of columns under the heading “Remembering the Legends,” – a few subjects were Leonard Rose, Pierre Fournier, and Frank Miller (who was Rose’s cousin and during Rose’s teenage years, a mentor). In addition, I published a feature about Gregor Piatigorsky’s influence on the National Symphony’s then-principal cellist, John Martin. And from an autobiographical perspective, I published “A Cellist’s Life at 40,” in the Potomac Review (Spring 2003).

What do you consider as the most frustrating side of becoming a published author and what has been the most rewarding?

Even though I was told it would happen, I was rejected over and over before Barry Beckham came to my rescue. Sure I was encouraged to keep looking for an agent/publisher, not one of my list of 20 stepped forward. The most rewarding aspect of being a published author is the response I am receiving from readers. They find the biography a moving, humane portrayal of America’s greatest cellist.

Are you married or single and how do you combine the writing life with home life? Do you have support?

I have been married for 15 years to a talented and beautiful lady, Jessica. We have two wonderful daughters, the eldest of whom (14 yrs) is currently continuing her violin studies at Interlochen’s prestigious Arts Academy.

Leonard Rose Can you tell us about your latest book and why you wrote it?

Leonard Rose’s exquisite artistry as a soloist, chamber musician, and orchestral player touched the lives of thousands of musicians and music lovers—yet none so profoundly as the roughly two hundred and fifty individuals entitled to call the great cellist, “my teacher.” I am among those so privileged. In a musical household, my first encounter with Leonard Rose came by way of the family phonograph and LP collection. I repeatedly listened to recordings Rose made after leaving his position as the New York Philharmonic’s principal cellist and bursting onto the solo scene. I recall peering into the jacket photo’s focused, deep-set, dark eyes that looked straight at me with the gaze of a tireless performer who appeared direct, sensitive, and passionate. In adolescence, I didn’t comprehend the emotions and thoughts the man’s sober expression conveyed. But his playing tugged at my heart. Its soulful beauty enthralled me. The tone was large and robust; his technique was impeccable. As a young cellist, an inexplicable desire to play for and to follow this man who so naturally produced this beautiful sound consumed me.

I wanted or should I say I felt the need and was confident of my abilities to keep Leonard Rose’s name alive. He has been dead for over 25 years and nothing substantial had yet been published. Because I had access to many of his colleagues, as cellist in the National Symphony Orchestra, I found talking to these illustrious musicians about Leonard Rose energizing and thrilling.

Can you share an excerpt?

Leonard Rose appeared as the featured soloist with the Tucson Symphony, the oldest orchestra in the American Southwest, performing Dvorák’s majestic cello concerto. Rose’s very early arrival on February 15, 1955, at the auditorium exemplified the routines that he unfailingly followed throughout his career: awaking at a specific hour, practicing three hours every morning, a certain amount of rest between fixed hours, and his pre-concert 4:00 p.m. steak and potatoes. The extra time allowed him the requisite stretch, without any distractions, to get comfortable in a different venue’s dressing room; smoke several cigarettes to steady himself; and warm up the muscles of his bow arm—his most critically praised skill. With a firm grip on his recently acquired 1662 Nicolò Amati instrument, he left the private room and peered at the orchestra members gathered on stage. He met a fellow cellist’s eyes dead on. This older man was no anonymous colleague; he was Leonard Rose’s father, Harry Rose. Less than a year before, Rose’s wife Minnie, who had been his family’s “Rock of Gibraltar,” received a grim diagnosis of leukemia, yet his father had not found an opportunity to speak to him about the upsetting news. For that matter, Harry had seemed to lack compassion for and opportunities to talk to his son when he was growing up and learning to play the cello.

In Harry’s new home of Tucson, the glimpse dredged up mixed emotions and Rose’s stomach tightened up in anticipation of striding to his place on the elevated wooden platform in front of the orchestra. The concerto’s glorious opening statement, two- dozen notes practiced over and over for decades, ran around in his head. The 37-year-old cellist, who had boldly struck out on his own as soloist just four years earlier, loved the repertoire’s most celebrated concerto and believed his performance of the emotionally charged, 45-minute work superior to any other colossus who came along. Better than Piatigorsky, Salmond, Cassadó, Silva, Miller, Schuster, Janigro, Kurtz, Garbousova, Starker, Fournier, even Casals. Its pacing was of paramount importance. The concerto required formidable strength to conquer the first movement’s militaristic style and virtuoso challenges. Rose needed to reach inward for the emotional intensity to color the delicate second movement, all the while holding in reserve enough power to vigorously attack and sustain the finale. He would then bring the powerful work to a bittersweet conclusion. The longer Rose stood waiting, the colder and sweatier his hands became. He knew the origins of his lifelong stage fright. Routines helped. Routines mattered. His eyes lowered to the floor, a perfunctory inspection of his spotless black shoes. He brushed invisible lint off his tuxedo, straightened lapels and the white handkerchief that needed no straightening. For the umpteenth time, he wiped his hands on his formal black pants, perhaps leaving sweat streaks. His gaze returned to the floor while he listened: “It gives me great pleasure to introduce our soloist for this evening, America’s leading cellist—Leonard Rose.” Another spasm tightened the knot in his stomach further. With the applause as his cue, Rose emerged from the wings. The soloist and his Amati wading through dozens of violin players tapping their bows upon music stands in approval, while Rose wore his mask of smiling calm. Standing adjacent to the podium, the Budapest- born maestro, Frederic Balazs, shook his hand and whispered “Good luck.” As the audience quieted down, Rose settled in the soloist’s chair, adjusting the endpin to its proper height; he fidgeted with his jacket’s tails, and then suddenly realized that his position seemed too near the edge, too near the people in the front row of the 2,600-seat University of Arizona auditorium which was filled to capacity. Rose winced. Balazs, at ease, baton in hand, was turned to his left, awaiting the traditional soloist’s nod that signaled permission to set things in motion. Preparation complete, Leonard Rose made eye contact with the conductor and inadvertently glimpsed that memorable other cellist again, seated on the inside of the section’s third stand. Leonard found Harry Rose’s grimace all too recognizable. As his son plunged into Dvorák’s vital opening statement, a familiar invincibility pushed his father—and everything else—out of his thoughts.

Where’s your favorite place to write at home?

I write all over the house but mostly in my practice studio. I do have notes in several spots in the house.

What is one thing about your book that makes it different from other books on the market?

The book comes with a CD of two cello concertos performed “live” by Leonard Rose that never have been part of the public domain: Carnegie Hall in 1950 with the New York Philharmonic in Alan Shulman’s cello concerto – a work expressly written for Rose. The concerto is conducted by Dimitri Mitropoulos, one of the great conductors in his day. The other work dates from 1956 in a “live” performance of Peter Mennin’s Cello Concerto – again expressly written for Rose. This performance took place with the Juilliard Orchestra with Jean Morel conducting. In both performances, Rose performs with unbelievable technique, poise and a superb musicality.

Tables are turned…what is one thing you’d like to say to your audience who might buy your book one day?

Rose married young, struggled to make a living and was a troubled parent. With prolonged absences, he wasn’t much of a husband to his first wife either as they had many disagreements over the course of their lives. The cause of this dysfunctional behavior was his drive, somewhat neurotic in scope that propelled him to the highest plane of his profession. Everyone respected and admired Leonard Rose. Yet, he felt that what he accomplished was never good enough. It was almost as if he became envious, or jealous of those whom he mentored who took over those performance dates that were once reserved for him.

Thank you for this interview, Steven. Good luck on your virtual book tour!  To find out where Steve will be appearing next, visit his official tour page here!


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