… “pupils waited for Adolph to finish the lesson before ours either in the little
entrance hall, or on a curved cushioned window seat in the large bay window.”
Read on, and immerse yourself in the story of a much loved piano teacher, well-
known in Johannesburg for many years.
THE PIANIST’S WIFE
LEONAE BLECHER
Adolph had been married before. His previous wife was a French artist, and they had
produced one child – a daughter who tragically developed a pubertal psychosis and
had to be institutionalised for the rest of her life. So, it wasn’t surprising that he
refused to have any children when he married Elsie.
Elsie was Viennese, a most charming, attractive and charismatic lady who
nevertheless had a will of iron and ruled Adolph and his entire piano student stable
over a lengthy period of many decades.
We pupils waited for Adolph to finish with the lesson before ours either in the little
entrance hall, on a curved cushioned window-seat in the large bay window. Or, we
went into the kitchen to chat with Elsie as she prepared the day’s lunch or dinner.
She was a great cook, and often tantalized our senses with those pots steaming out
the aromas of wonderful traditional Viennese specialities. But she was very aware of
health issues, and took great care to protect Adolph’s health by using the right oils,
not too much richness in the daily food, plenty of salads and vegetables, and so on.
We would be up-dated on all the current music news, gossip and scandal, finally
interrupted by Adolph’s slightly bent figure appearing round the door, with the cheery
greeting: “And where’s my next victim?” And in we would go, trembling nervously and
wishing our hands weren’t so cold and stiff and wondering where the past week had
gone and why we had done so little of what Adolph had instructed us to do! He used
to sing the themes in a husky voice as he insisted, over and over again, that we
listen, listen, listen ceaselessly to all the voices that played themselves out under our
fingers.
Elsie kept that place spotless, inside and outside, there was never a speck of dirt or
dust, and the little garden was a glorious array of bright seasonal blooms, with vases
of great flowers lightening the gloom of the big drawing room with its two concert
grands nose to nose.
Adolph was a musician and not remotely interested in physical exercise, other than
Czerny studies and that type of thing! So one of Elsie’s major concerns was to force
him off his comfortable chair next to the grand piano and get him out to walk round
several blocks, after all, he was in great danger of all the ills that attend upon an
almost entirely sedentary life. At one stage, they had a giant black poodle called
Monty, and exercising Monty was an excellent way to get Adolph out and exercising
too.
He was perhaps the greatest piano teacher we ever had here in South Africa. Three
generations of pianists flourished under his tutelage. And he was a fine pianist
himself in his time. I actually had the exciting experience of hearing him play a piano
concerto with Sir John Barbirolli and the Manchester Symphony orchestra in
Manchester, when I was a music student in London in my teens.
My mother had learned with him for decades, and then I joined her when I was about
ten, and did all my music exams with him, right up to Performer’s Licentiate. And then
my fourth son, Taddy, learned with him and did Matric Music.
By the time Tad was in Matric, Adolph was becoming very old. He had a tendency to
doze off as he sat with his eyes closed, listening and assessing as the current pupil
showed what he had done during the preceding week.
As I have said, they had two concert grand pianos in their Greenside lounge, one for
Adolph himself, the other for the pupils, and when a pupil was really advanced and
into a great concerto, Adolph would play the orchestral part on his own piano.
How I remember the nervousness I felt each week as my mother drove me down to
52, The Braids Road, Greenside for my piano lesson. How I wished I’d practised
harder, paid deeper attention to Adolph’s subtle markings, got it all into my head and
under my fingers better! So often my hands had turned to stiff ice, or were all
slippery, how on earth could I give of my best?
I vaguely remember Elsie had an old mother who died in Austria many years back,
but apart from that I don’t remember her having any other family in the years I knew
them. Adolph had had a brother in Port Elizabeth; Ziggy Hallis who ran an antique
shop, I believe, but I don’t think there was much contact there, and then he must
have died too. Anyway, whatever family the two of them may have had, there was
only a nephew somewhere when the couple reached their late years.
And somehow Adolph lived on, and carried on teaching, although he walked very
slowly, and dozed more and more. Elsie remained bright and energetic and did
everything in her power to keep him alive and well. With each birthday, past and
present students inundated him with flowers and gifts and congratulations, and he
would say: “Well I’ve made it to eighty-eight! I’ve beaten … (whoever it was he was
measuring himself against)!”
In fact, he reached the nineties eventually, but the last year came, and the last
weeks. He took to his bed, and eventually died quietly in his sleep. He was
somewhere around ninety-two, I think.
Elsie was brave and efficient over the funeral, but then it gradually became apparent
to us who loved her that, with her beloved Adolph’s death, life had lost all meaning
and purpose for her.
She stayed on in the house, but whenever I visited her, she was dressed in a house-
coat/overall type of thing, and there was an ever-growing line of whisky and brandy
bottles stretching outside her back door. I never found her inebriated, presumably
she drank in the sad and lonely evenings. She was getting thinner and thinner and
paler and paler. We suspected that she was barely eating, so I used to take meals to
her sometimes and watch her eat.
Eventually her heart started to pack up, and she was in and out of hospital. The last
time I saw her, she was in bed in the Strydom Hospital. We chatted a bit, and then
she put her hand under her pillow and pulled out a package tied with a faded blue
ribbon. “Adolph’s love letters!” she said.
I heard that she died a few days later. But in fact the real Elsie Hallis had died with
her Adolph some months before.
They were an extraordinary couple; Adolph and Elsie Hallis. Music in Johannesburg
lost a great deal when the two of them died. And I will never drive past 52, The
Braids Road, Greenside without remembering all those decades of my life when that
was the place I chose to be, one day every week, year in, year out, as I pursued my
dream of being a performing musician.