Texan in Moscow

The rage of Moscow this week was a lanky (6 ft. 4 in.), curly-haired Texan whose long, flashing fingers at the piano keyboard put a rare thaw into the cold war.

Van Cliburn, 23, blazed through the opening round of the first Tchaikovsky International Piano and Violin Festival with 49 other pianists from 19 countries, and his twelve-note span carried him triumphantly through the second round. By then the town's elite was on its ear. To hear him in the finals, standees jammed the aisles in the Moscow Conservatory's deep balconies. Soldiers held back enthusiastic crowds in the street outside. To the hundreds of callers who asked for tickets, the Conservatory's box office had a standard reply: "Cliburn is playing tonight; call back tomorrow."

Snapped String. In the finals, which matched him against eight other pianists --including three top-rated Russians and another American, Los Angeles' Daniel Pollack, 23--the good-looking young Texan chose to play Rachmaninoff's powerful Concerto No. 3. As required of all finalists, he also played Tchaikovsky's familiar First and a rondo by Soviet Composer (and contest judge) Dmitry Kabalevsky, who wrote it for the contest.

Despite a bandaged index finger (which he had cut during a grueling rehearsal), Cliburn displayed the tautly controlled technique, the steel-fingered power and booming romantic style that had dazzled audiences in the opening rounds. Toward the end of the rondo, a piano string snapped under his bold percussive attack. He piled through the rest of the piece without faltering, rose after the final Rachmaninoff to one of the most thunderous ovations ever accorded an artist in Moscow.

For nearly ten minutes the bravos echoed through the cavernous hall; finally the judges, in violation of the contest rules, permitted Cliburn to return to the stage for a second bow. Then the orchestra rose and joined the ovation. Backstage, the jurors, including famed Russian Pianist Emil Gilels, embraced Cliburn. Alexander Goldenweiser, octogenarian dean of Russian pianists, kept repeating one word: "Genius!" Hearing the news, the New York Philharmonic promptly signed Cliburn for four Manhattan concerts in the winter.

Lost Pounds. Still, with six of his rivals yet to play, Cliburn's victory was hardly assured; indeed, on his U.S. record, he could not have been expected to whip up such frenzy. Born in Shreveport, La., the son of an oil executive, Cliburn grew up in Kilgore, Texas, studied the piano with his mother, a onetime concert pianist named Rilda Bee. He had no other training until he enrolled at Manhattan's Juilliard School of Music in 1951 to study with Russian-born Teacher Rosina Lhevinne. He won the Leventritt Award for young pianists in 1954, and as a result made his debut with the New York Philharmonic to glowing reviews. But like many another promising young U.S. instrumentalist, he promptly dropped out of sight on the smalltime recital circuit, found himself playing successful but unheralded recitals in places from High Point, N.C. to Coldwater, Mich.

It was the Russians, still slightly incredulous that any U.S.-trained pianist could be so good, who decided that he was ready for the big time. The night before Composer Dmitry Shostakovich was to hand out the first prize--25,000 rubles, or $6,250 at the official rate--Moscow leaked the winner's name: Van Cliburn. Said Pianist Cliburn: "I can't believe it." Then, noting the 10 lbs. he had lost during his harrowing two weeks of competition, he added: "I'd like to go back to Texas. I'm just about to break down."

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