What to believe

The other day a profile appeared in the New York Times about a boat builder named Saul Chandler who changed his name from Saul Lipshutz after he stopped playing the violin. Somehow he became known to Alex Vadukul, a writer in search of someone he felt had a human interest story that would resonate with readers (and it did). Vadukul put the words "redemption" and "lost prodigy" in the title, and illustrated the story with striking photographs. The words "excellent," "gift," and "genius" pop up all the time. Those are the words of Vadukul, who interprets Chandler's stories with the eye and ear of a writer who really wants to believe the stories he is told.

Michael and I both questioned how much of Chandler's story is true.

After a few beers, however, Mr. Chandler might tell a story that is not of the cheerful maritime sort:

“I played Carnegie Hall twice before I was 13.”

“I was known for my Bach.”

“They turned me into a trained monkey.”

“If I could forget about music I would.”

When asked to say more, he shrugs, and the stories fade into the barroom haze. But this mysterious specter follows him to his boat. When music is playing on the radio, if a certain violin concerto comes on, he may get up and switch the station off. “The violin upsets me,” he said. “It reminds me of terror.”

In the 1960s, Mr. Chandler was one of the most promising classical violin prodigies in New York.

Details in this article gnaw at my brain. If Chandler was one of the most promising violin prodigies in New York during the 1960s, with a career as a soloist in Europe as well, why are there no reviews of his concerts anywhere to be found in newspapers online? Vadukul mentions newspapers "that chronicled his talents."

(Michael only found one reference to Chandler--then Lipshutz--playing the solo part in Bach's Brandenburg Concerto #5 when he was a student at New Providence High School in New Jersey in 1963.)

I think that Chandler might, in the course of the past 50 years, augmented his accomplishments. I think that Vadukul, who knows about music from reading at least one book about musical prodigies, wanted to believe him.

I can't imagine how a violin that had been sitting in its unopened case for 50 years and gave off a musty odor could look like this:

I wonder how, after 50 years, the violin could have a bow with it that still had hair, a bridge and sound post that were both still standing, and strings that still looked new.