In the mid-1940s Oscar Levant was the highest paid concert hall artist in the United States, receiving almost $5,000 per recital, more than even Horowitz or Rubinstein charged.
I always loved Levant in Bandwagon, with Fred Astaire, Cyd Charisse, Nanette Fabray and Jack Buchanan. Levant was also in Astaire's The Barkleys of Broadway, another film scripted by Betty Comden and Adolph Green. Both films were the better for his participation.
Favorite Oscar Levant story: George Gershwin, who could have been the greatest P.R. guy in American history, believed his new friend, the White Russian emigre, Vladimir Dukelsky, needed a new name if he were ever going to catch on in the world of American popular music. He came up with "Vernon Duke." Dukelsky liked it. Oscar Levant's reaction was, "What does it matter? You're destined for oblivion under either name."
These many years after the fact, I too have a Levant story. Classical musicians, especially string players, were very few in the West Texas area where I was born and raised, thus even in high school I was welcomed as a violist of moderate abilities in the area community orchestra. Among the more recognizable names we welcomed included Margaret Truman (during her father's presidency), Lawrence Melchoir, and Oscar Levant among others. Levant's reputation of course preceded him and we were warned that he could be impatient and demanding with community orchestras. Curiously he was on relatively good behavior with us and only slammed his hands down on the piano once during a section of Rhapsody In Blue that he didn't like. The piano of course was in the middle of the stage and the orchestra members' positions adjusted accordingly. I vividly recall that my stand was less than two feet from the back of the piano, meaning that he could have flipped a nickel during a pause and hit us. Levant might have been curious, wondering how he landed in this forsaken area of the country with a volunteer orchestra of highly doubtful training and reputation. I recall that he scoured the orchestra while we were rehearsing the questionable section of the accompaniment, taking in the unusual situation more than disapproving, apparently formulating a "can you top this?" story of life on the road. At one point I felt eye tracks going all over me and glanced toward the soloist to see him sitting at the piano, right arm folded over the top, and glaring at me. Even though still a high school student, I had no doubt what was going through his mind--what have I sunk to to have to be playing in an orchestra with a kid this young!! However I had the music to contend with and payed him no more attention. Something must have worked because the concert the following night was totally successful and Oscar was absolutely charming. This would have been around 1953 and it remains one of my favorite memories from my early career in music.
My mother, a Gershwin aficionado who'd heard an acetate of Rhapsody in Blue before it was even released, was a huge Oscar Levant fan. I got infected, and we loved watching him with Jack Paar and on his own brief series. Those are very vivid memories for me. I adore Fred Astaire, and Cyd Charisse is my favorite Astaire dance partner, but I'm afraid that Oscar steals The Band Wagon for me. Great essay, as usual. I did not know that he was the model for Henry Orient, which I saw 1st run because I was a Sellers fan. Also, Arnold Schoenberg has always been one of my favorite composers, and I didn't know that he and Oscar had been friends. Small world.
My favorite Oscar Levant story comes from HARPO SPEAKS! He asked Prokofiev a question about his 2nd Piano Concerto, and when Prokofiev sat down and started playing it, but made mistakes, Levant pushed him off the piano bench and played it himself! Now THAT's chutzpa.
Really enjoyed this piece. I share your fascination with the working-class intellectuals of this time period. I'd also include some what I'd call credentialed auto-didacts, like Carl Sagan or Stephen Jay Gould (who had more of a middle-class background) or Arthur Miller in that category. They were people of some "official" attainment whose curiosity and ambitions obviously extended well beyond their writ.
A great generation of journalists came also out of these folks. I am the first in my immediate family to graduate from high school. My very large (Irish) extended family didn't think college was in the cards until the GI bill, when a few of the older guys in my Dad's cohort gave it a go and became engineers. One of the things I've always noted about my dad and his brothers were there strong attachment to the more generally available portals into the life of the mind--good journalism and analysis, public broadcasting, libraries--and how they loved to pool resources with the similarly curious over a beer or a cup of coffee or a good dinner.
What a great article. My only knowledge of Mr. Levant up to reading this was seeing him flash by in a few movies & my always wanting more of him, wondering who he was. This really fleshed out a lot more of him for me. Thanks
I enjoyed your article, but I'm puzzled as to why you quote 2 famous lines (“I’m a concert pianist; that’s a pretentious way of saying I’m unemployed at the moment.”" and "It's not a pretty face, I grant you, but underneath its flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character") from the film "An American in Paris" without attribution, as if Levant himself made these statements? Surely, however "close to home" these brilliant lines may have been, the are written for a fictional character which he portrayed in a film. To me, that's a bit like quoting lines from Woody Allen films as evidence of his character in private life.
I always loved Levant in Bandwagon, with Fred Astaire, Cyd Charisse, Nanette Fabray and Jack Buchanan. Levant was also in Astaire's The Barkleys of Broadway, another film scripted by Betty Comden and Adolph Green. Both films were the better for his participation.
Favorite Oscar Levant story: George Gershwin, who could have been the greatest P.R. guy in American history, believed his new friend, the White Russian emigre, Vladimir Dukelsky, needed a new name if he were ever going to catch on in the world of American popular music. He came up with "Vernon Duke." Dukelsky liked it. Oscar Levant's reaction was, "What does it matter? You're destined for oblivion under either name."
These many years after the fact, I too have a Levant story. Classical musicians, especially string players, were very few in the West Texas area where I was born and raised, thus even in high school I was welcomed as a violist of moderate abilities in the area community orchestra. Among the more recognizable names we welcomed included Margaret Truman (during her father's presidency), Lawrence Melchoir, and Oscar Levant among others. Levant's reputation of course preceded him and we were warned that he could be impatient and demanding with community orchestras. Curiously he was on relatively good behavior with us and only slammed his hands down on the piano once during a section of Rhapsody In Blue that he didn't like. The piano of course was in the middle of the stage and the orchestra members' positions adjusted accordingly. I vividly recall that my stand was less than two feet from the back of the piano, meaning that he could have flipped a nickel during a pause and hit us. Levant might have been curious, wondering how he landed in this forsaken area of the country with a volunteer orchestra of highly doubtful training and reputation. I recall that he scoured the orchestra while we were rehearsing the questionable section of the accompaniment, taking in the unusual situation more than disapproving, apparently formulating a "can you top this?" story of life on the road. At one point I felt eye tracks going all over me and glanced toward the soloist to see him sitting at the piano, right arm folded over the top, and glaring at me. Even though still a high school student, I had no doubt what was going through his mind--what have I sunk to to have to be playing in an orchestra with a kid this young!! However I had the music to contend with and payed him no more attention. Something must have worked because the concert the following night was totally successful and Oscar was absolutely charming. This would have been around 1953 and it remains one of my favorite memories from my early career in music.
My mother, a Gershwin aficionado who'd heard an acetate of Rhapsody in Blue before it was even released, was a huge Oscar Levant fan. I got infected, and we loved watching him with Jack Paar and on his own brief series. Those are very vivid memories for me. I adore Fred Astaire, and Cyd Charisse is my favorite Astaire dance partner, but I'm afraid that Oscar steals The Band Wagon for me. Great essay, as usual. I did not know that he was the model for Henry Orient, which I saw 1st run because I was a Sellers fan. Also, Arnold Schoenberg has always been one of my favorite composers, and I didn't know that he and Oscar had been friends. Small world.
My favorite Oscar Levant story comes from HARPO SPEAKS! He asked Prokofiev a question about his 2nd Piano Concerto, and when Prokofiev sat down and started playing it, but made mistakes, Levant pushed him off the piano bench and played it himself! Now THAT's chutzpa.
Superb piece on a great figure.
Really enjoyed this piece. I share your fascination with the working-class intellectuals of this time period. I'd also include some what I'd call credentialed auto-didacts, like Carl Sagan or Stephen Jay Gould (who had more of a middle-class background) or Arthur Miller in that category. They were people of some "official" attainment whose curiosity and ambitions obviously extended well beyond their writ.
A great generation of journalists came also out of these folks. I am the first in my immediate family to graduate from high school. My very large (Irish) extended family didn't think college was in the cards until the GI bill, when a few of the older guys in my Dad's cohort gave it a go and became engineers. One of the things I've always noted about my dad and his brothers were there strong attachment to the more generally available portals into the life of the mind--good journalism and analysis, public broadcasting, libraries--and how they loved to pool resources with the similarly curious over a beer or a cup of coffee or a good dinner.
Wonderful essay. Thank you. It stirs many memories of laughter from the age of radio.
What a great article. My only knowledge of Mr. Levant up to reading this was seeing him flash by in a few movies & my always wanting more of him, wondering who he was. This really fleshed out a lot more of him for me. Thanks
I enjoyed your article, but I'm puzzled as to why you quote 2 famous lines (“I’m a concert pianist; that’s a pretentious way of saying I’m unemployed at the moment.”" and "It's not a pretty face, I grant you, but underneath its flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character") from the film "An American in Paris" without attribution, as if Levant himself made these statements? Surely, however "close to home" these brilliant lines may have been, the are written for a fictional character which he portrayed in a film. To me, that's a bit like quoting lines from Woody Allen films as evidence of his character in private life.