Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty ballet … in the State Final of the Concerto and Vocal Competition … Joseph Post, as spokesman
for the three judges, said that the standard of piano playing was very high … and they had chosen David Helfgott as winner
of the piano section.”
These reviews of David’s performances come from my father’s collection of David’s clippings, which he certainly never burned
as is depicted in
Shine
. After he died Leslie kept the clippings, and then passed them on to David. I made myself some copies years later.
Naturally, after winning the annual State final to such acclaim, which he did on many occasions, David felt very special.
There was always an air of anticipation in the house in the days before he prepared to be sent for the plane ride on the long
journey to one of Australia’s larger cities, Melbourne, Sydney, or Adelaide, where the Commonwealth Finals of the Concerto
and Vocal Competition would take place. There, he would play with the resident ABC Orchestra. He would usually be accompanied
by my mother or father, while the rest of us would gather around the radio at home, listening intently. Television only arrived
in Australia in 1956 and we did not yet have a TV set. By the time David played in the concerto competition, because he had
spent so many hours practicing them at home, we all knew those concertos by heart.
Surprisingly, given the fact that David really was an outstanding pianist at the time, he never actually won the Commonwealth
Final. Nevertheless, every year was taken up with the excitement of these concerto competitions.
6
A SUGGESTION FROM ISAAC STERN
F rom the age of about twelve or thirteen, David’s personality started to change. He was no longer the kind little boy that
he had been. The previously sweet, introverted, and sensitive child became increasingly arrogant and selfish. Nowhere was
this more obvious than in the realm of music, where he became very dominating and hated to share the limelight. He used to
say: “There should only be one star in the family,” leaving us in no doubt about whom he was talking.
Until then we had always played the piano happily side by side. But now when we sat down to practice together for competitions,
David would start playing very loudly and very fast. Sometimes it was so loud that I couldn’t even hear myself. When I asked
David to play a little slower or a little softer so I could keep up with him, he would do precisely the opposite and pound
away furiously at the keys.
This kind of uncooperative behavior continued until it became impossible to play with him. For me this was heartbreaking:
I had always imagined that even though David was giving astonishing solo performances, we could still carry on performing
together as a team.
I was not the only target of David’s unpleasantness. When our little brother Leslie had first started to learn the violin,
David often accompanied him on the piano. They really enjoyed playing together, and Leslie was especially delighted that his
big brother was devoting time to him alone. But one day I remember listening with horror as David was accompanying Leslie,
who was practicing. It sounded all wrong to me—out of time—which wasn’t like David. I remember thinking: “Heavens, why is
he playing like that? He’s not supporting Leslie—he’s playing too loud and too fast.” Poor Leslie was only little and didn’t
seem to notice what was happening, but it wasn’t long before it dawned on me: David was deliberately sabotaging Leslie’s efforts.
My mother and father also suffered from David’s odd behavior. When we went to the Concerto and Vocal competitions at the Capitol
Theater, David started acting as if he no longer even wanted to know us. He walked ahead of my mother, father, and me as if
he felt ashamed of us.
David even started behaving cruelly to his beloved animals. He had always loved playing with Bitzy,
for the three judges, said that the standard of piano playing was very high … and they had chosen David Helfgott as winner
of the piano section.”
These reviews of David’s performances come from my father’s collection of David’s clippings, which he certainly never burned
as is depicted in
Shine
. After he died Leslie kept the clippings, and then passed them on to David. I made myself some copies years later.
Naturally, after winning the annual State final to such acclaim, which he did on many occasions, David felt very special.
There was always an air of anticipation in the house in the days before he prepared to be sent for the plane ride on the long
journey to one of Australia’s larger cities, Melbourne, Sydney, or Adelaide, where the Commonwealth Finals of the Concerto
and Vocal Competition would take place. There, he would play with the resident ABC Orchestra. He would usually be accompanied
by my mother or father, while the rest of us would gather around the radio at home, listening intently. Television only arrived
in Australia in 1956 and we did not yet have a TV set. By the time David played in the concerto competition, because he had
spent so many hours practicing them at home, we all knew those concertos by heart.
Surprisingly, given the fact that David really was an outstanding pianist at the time, he never actually won the Commonwealth
Final. Nevertheless, every year was taken up with the excitement of these concerto competitions.
6
A SUGGESTION FROM ISAAC STERN
F rom the age of about twelve or thirteen, David’s personality started to change. He was no longer the kind little boy that
he had been. The previously sweet, introverted, and sensitive child became increasingly arrogant and selfish. Nowhere was
this more obvious than in the realm of music, where he became very dominating and hated to share the limelight. He used to
say: “There should only be one star in the family,” leaving us in no doubt about whom he was talking.
Until then we had always played the piano happily side by side. But now when we sat down to practice together for competitions,
David would start playing very loudly and very fast. Sometimes it was so loud that I couldn’t even hear myself. When I asked
David to play a little slower or a little softer so I could keep up with him, he would do precisely the opposite and pound
away furiously at the keys.
This kind of uncooperative behavior continued until it became impossible to play with him. For me this was heartbreaking:
I had always imagined that even though David was giving astonishing solo performances, we could still carry on performing
together as a team.
I was not the only target of David’s unpleasantness. When our little brother Leslie had first started to learn the violin,
David often accompanied him on the piano. They really enjoyed playing together, and Leslie was especially delighted that his
big brother was devoting time to him alone. But one day I remember listening with horror as David was accompanying Leslie,
who was practicing. It sounded all wrong to me—out of time—which wasn’t like David. I remember thinking: “Heavens, why is
he playing like that? He’s not supporting Leslie—he’s playing too loud and too fast.” Poor Leslie was only little and didn’t
seem to notice what was happening, but it wasn’t long before it dawned on me: David was deliberately sabotaging Leslie’s efforts.
My mother and father also suffered from David’s odd behavior. When we went to the Concerto and Vocal competitions at the Capitol
Theater, David started acting as if he no longer even wanted to know us. He walked ahead of my mother, father, and me as if
he felt ashamed of us.
David even started behaving cruelly to his beloved animals. He had always loved playing with Bitzy,
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