At 14, Hephzibah Menuhin could have touched the moon. Within easy reach of her talented, chubby fingers glittered bright lights, big money, fame. While brother Yehudi fiddled, she had played brilliant piano. Together they had charmed the major capitals of the world. Critics had glowed over her fleet and clean technique, her vibrant tones.
Then Poppa Menuhin stepped in. Said he implacably: "We have known hundreds of women musicians, and we have never seen a happy one. . . . The first urge of a woman is to have a home. That is what Hephzibah will have." Hephzibah was spirited into the...
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