Posts tagged Lea Luboshutz
Women Musical Trailblazers by Thomas Wolf

On November 15, 1940, Eugene Ormandy, music director of the Philadelphia Orchestra, offered an all-Beethoven program. Such a concert would not have been unusual except for one thing. The three soloists that day were all trailblazing women. To learn more about them, read here..

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Monkey Business | part one of three by Thomas Wolf

I always thought it odd that my grandmother, a famous violinist, loved monkeys.  In the various places she lived, there were no native habitats for monkeys and she must have been an adult before she saw a live one. But in her homes, there were always paintings, prints, photographs, toys, carvings, statues — you name it — monkeys everywhere. And it was certainly not an animal I associated with music.

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A Hundred Years of Female Beauty by Thomas Wolf

In The Nightingale’s Sonata, I mention that many of my grandmother’s contemporaries, in the years she lived in Moscow, described her and her sister, Anna, as quite beautiful.  Lest that seem like a sexist subject for a blog post, let me say that such comments were quite important to assess given that beautiful women performers of that era who enjoyed successful careers were often accused of using their looks and heir charms to advance themselves professionally.

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Lea Becomes a U.S. Citizen (with a Little Unintentional Help from a Governor) by Thomas Wolf

When people ask me what my grandmother was like, I usually resort to telling stories about Lea.  Not only are many of these stories quite entertaining but they give a sense of my grandmother’s personality — confident, determined, disarmingly charming, with a wonderful sense of humor.  One of my favorite stories is how Lea became a U.S. citizen.

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Capturing a Special World by Thomas Wolf

Why did I write The Nightingale’s Sonata? In the opening pages of the book, I give one answer.  My mother had entrusted to me a beautiful silver podstakannik or tea-glass holder with an enameled portrait of my two uncles as children.  My family had smuggled it out of Russia and eventually my mother passed it on to me along with boxes of family material. She had said, “You must tell the family story.” I promised I would.

But I had another reason for writing the book. . . .

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