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On the evening of Nov. 17, 1891 a sharp-eyed Pole with an incredible stack of red-gold hair walked onto the stage of Manhattan's Carnegie Hall. He bowed suavely, sat down at the piano and struck the opening chords of Saint-Saens' G Minor Piano Concerto. Leading the attendant orchestra was Manhattan's cool, deliberate Walter Damrosch, then a young man of 29.
Ignace Jan Paderewski's U. S. debut was no sensation. A stormy crossing from England on a small steamer had upset his stomach. The unexpected news that he was supposed to play six lengthy piano concertos during his first week in Manhattan had upset his nerves. After the concert he returned in a panic to his hotel room, where he immediately started to practice for his second appearance. The other guests banged angrily on their radiator pipes. So he went out again, woke up the watchman at the Steinway Piano Company's warehouse, and spent the rest of the night practicing by candle-light in a loft where the pianos were stored.
"The second concert," he later remarked, "was much better." But it was not until he had spent another night in the warehouse whipping up concertos by Rubinstein and Chopin that Pianist Paderewski became Manhattan's biggest show since P. T. Barnum's Museum.
At his third concert the audience caught fire. Women crowded to the stage to shower him with bouquets. The box office grossed $3,000. When it was over, Paderewski found himself the lion of Manhattan. His success was repeated in Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia. His first U. S. tour netted him $95,000.
Old Lion. Last week, in spite of doctors' warnings, 78-year-old Paderewski took the road again. Accompanying him from Switzerland was his dapper, diplomatic secretary Sylwin Strakacz, his valet and a curious, high-backed, fringed, 50-pound piano stool which is as indispensable to Paderewski's playing as the piano itself. Waiting for him in Manhattan was the private Pullman which will be his home during the next three months. Waiting also was his faithful piano-tuner, grey-haired Boston-born Eldon Joubert, who has accompanied him on all his U. S. tours since 1913.
Pianist Paderewski travels in style. But on tour he does worse than live on the wrong side of the tracks : he invariably inhabits freight yards. His private car is outfitted with all the comforts of home, with a library and a piano to practice on.
All his sleeping, eating and practicing while on the road is done in the car, wherever it happens to be parked. The hooting and clatter of passing trains bothers him not a whit.
The car always houses a staff of seven men. Besides Secretary Strakacz, who plays bridge with him on long jumps, and Piano-tuner Joubert, who carries around an atlas and answers questions about the populations and industries of the towns they visit, the most indispensable member of this staff is his private chef. With romantic Paderewski, food is a romantic passion. He is partial to lamb, chicken and turkey, worships caviar, pheasant and sweet champagne. If he is about to visit a town famous for some particular dish, he always telegraphs ahead to have some of it specially prepared for him. On concert days he lunches at 4 p.m., dines at midnight.