In San Francisco, a small boy had a birthday, made his party out of such stuff as Mozart, Bach and Tartini and entertained 10.000 guests. He was Yehudi Menuhin, who after two years abroad, has upset the tradition that a child prodigy can never be a great artist. Out he came on to the great Civic Auditorium stage, a chunky child in the white socks, silk blouse and velvet breeches of the conventional boy violinist. Over his face spread a wide, confiding smile. Up to his chin...
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