Van Cliburn had already stirred the sold-out crowd to its feet three separate times during his February 25 performance at the Kennedy Center. He already had converted several casual listeners into true believers by intermission. And he had already returned for two encores before an audience, including First Lady Laura Bush, that insisted on more.
How could he add a final exclamation to the evening?
Cliburn, the 69-year-old Texan, had one last surprise. He performed Franz Liszt's transcription of Robert Schumann's Widmung (Dedication), the love song that the German composer wrote for his beloved wife, Clara. But in this context, on this evening, Cliburn transformed the classic German lied into a memorial for "all who have ever lost a family pet," including, he noted, the First Family. The Bushes had lost their 15-year-old English springer spaniel, Spot, to old age just days earlier, on Saturday, February 21.
And with that, Cliburn broke into a stirring version of Widmung, one that left nearly 2,400 patrons in the hushed concert hall thinking back to beloved pets long gone—but warmly remembered in the pianist's delicately reimagined interpretation of Schumann. What better way could The Humane Society of the United States launch its 50th anniversary celebration?
If such a performance didn't say something about Van Cliburn's love of animals, the next moment certainly did. Cliburn walked back out on stage with Paul G. Irwin, president and CEO of The HSUS. The pianist was cradling Irwin's young mixed breed dog, Cedric, whom the executive adopted from the Dumb Friends League in Denver. Cliburn, in fact, wasn't just cradling Cedric; he was hugging him and, at one point, even planted a kiss on the pooch's head. Joining the two men on stage were Sens. Susan Collins (R-ME) and Carl Levin (D-MI), whom Irwin called "fabulous warriors…in trying to protect the creatures represented by Cedric tonight."
But the moment belonged to Cliburn. Dr. David Wiebers, chairman of The HSUS Board of Directors, presented Cliburn with the 2004 James Herriot Award, given to "an outstanding individual who has helped to promote and inspire an appreciation of and concern for animals among the public." The award comes with a special-edition Boehm porcelain statue.
"This award means so very, very much to me," said Cliburn, who earlier this year had also picked up a Lifetime Achievement Grammy. "So many of the 'little people' we love are defenseless and need us.
"We've all experienced the joy and happiness of someone who will," Cliburn added, then paused for effect, "never talk back to us." The audience roared with laughter, if not recognition.
Creating His Own Humane Universe
Certainly, no one was talking back during Cliburn's nearly two-hour performance, believed to be only the second concert ever presented by The HSUS in its 50-year history. With the First Lady sitting in the presidential box, the pianist opened the recital with a deeply meditative interpretation of "The Star Spangled Banner," before launching into his full program of Brahms, Debussy, and Chopin.
Everything about Cliburn bespoke of a refined and gracious host. He walked out wearing a black tuxedo with tails, a white shirt and a white bow tie—the latter two articles of clothing nicely complementing his full head of snow-white hair. On his left lapel he sported a small blue ribbon, a subtle reminder from President George W. Bush that Van Cliburn had reached a pinnacle few artists ever do: He was a 2003 recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
When the tall Texan sat down at the piano, he looked poised if somewhat precarious. His long legs formed perfect 90-degree angles from the piano bench, but he looked to be barely sitting down, as if he were hovering next to the black Steinway grand piano. It seemed an appropriate illusion given Cliburn's relationship to his instrument. Often it seemed more like he was pulling notes from the piano like a master magician instead of a musician merely "playing" the instrument.
Cliburn performed the entire recital without the benefit of sheet music. His hands sometimes were as mesmerizing to watch as his music was to hear. During Brahms' G Minor Rhapsody, his right hand maintained a steady, lyrical line, while his left hand danced on either side of the right, adding little one and two-note commentaries. But it was during his performances of Debussy that Cliburn seemed transported to another, more humane world. He coaxed notes so soft and ethereal and fragile that he literally would pull his hands back from the keyboard momentarily, as if not to bruise the music.
Cliburn's recital left the crowd searching for the right words to describe what they had just heard and felt. People used words like "moving" and "transcendent" and "magical." They seemed to feel momentarily transported to a place far removed from the day-to-day struggles of Washington D.C. And many of the people in this crowd deal with those struggles personally: Aside from Collins and Levin, the U.S. Senate was well-represented by Sens. Joe Biden (D-DE), Maria Cantwell (D-WA), Richard Lugar (R-IN), and Ben Nelson (D-NE). U.S. House members scheduled to attend included Reps. Earl Blumenauer (D-OR), John Boozman (R-AR), Michael Burgess (R-TX), Jay Inslee (D-WA), Donald Manzullo (R-IL), Thomas Tancredo (R-CO), John Tanner (D-TN), and Edward Whitfield (R-KY). Ambassadors representing countries from Italy to Kenya were also in attendance.
The Coda
Several hundred people gathered on the Terrace Level at the Kennedy Center for a post-recital reception featuring awards, recognitions, and even a book unveiling.
As if inspired by the musician who had just performed without sheet music, Paul Irwin decided to throw away his prepared speech and speak off the cuff. He called former HSUS president John Hoyt to the podium to present him with the very first copy of historian Bernard Unti's Protecting All Animals: A Fifty-Year History of The Humane Society of the United States. Well, it was supposed to be the first copy.
"I was hoping to present you with the first copy, but when I met the First Lady, Laura Bush, I gave her a copy," Irwin said good-naturedly. Hoyt didn't seem to mind.
Hoyt, in turn, presented long-time friend Angel Harvey, wife of broadcaster Paul Harvey, with the Joseph Wood Krutch Medal "in recognition of her many and significant contributions toward the improvement of life and the environment." Unfortunately, the Harveys, who were instrumental in putting this benefit recital together, were not able to attend; Irwin and Cliburn accepted the award in Angel Harvey's place.
"Angel sent her tickets back, saying these tickets are tear-stained," Irwin noted. "But her spirit is with us indeed."
Perhaps the quote of the evening, however, came shortly after The HSUS's Chief of Staff, Dr. Andrew Rowan, introduced all the ambassadors on hand, and then invited the Russian ambassador, Yury Ushakov, to the podium for a few words. It seemed an altogether appropriate gesture, given the fact that, nearly 50 years ago, Van Cliburn instantly became a worldwide celebrity when he won the first Tchaikovsky International Piano Competition in Moscow at the age of 23. Need we mention that this was at the height of the Cold War when neither country really wanted to give an inch, let alone a major award, to the other?
But 46 years after the fact, here was Ushakov at a podium in Washington D.C. offering a truly historic tribute. Van Cliburn, the ambassador noted, was "not only a great American, but a great Russian, because of his great feeling for Tchaikovsky, which is so close to the Russian soul."
At that moment, the world did indeed seem a more humane place.
