Liszt was the first. He dropped by to say hello one day in the 1930s when Rosemary Brown was only seven. "He had long white hair and wore a black gown," she recalls, "and he told me that when I grew up, he would give me music." Sure enough, one day in 1964, when Rosemary was playing the piano in her home in Laitwood Road, Balham, one of London's poorer suburbs, she suddenly lost control of her hands. She looked up and there was Liszt, hawk nose, white hair, black gown and all, guiding her fingers over the keys.
Liszt soon rounded...
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