What many people may not have known is that although Eugene Sârbu lived in London for close to fifty years, he began his career in the United States in the 1970s. And that’s where I first met him. My first memory of Eugene dates back to the summer of 1971 when we were both students at Meadowmount, Ivan Galamian’s violin hothouse in upstate New York. Our first encounter was two days after the summer session had begun when I saw an elderly man carrying Eugene’s two big suitcases into our dormitory. I recall assuming that this was a taxi driver who looked surprisingly like “Mr G” (Mr. Galamian) himself, never imagining that the legendary pedagogue would deign to carry anyone’s bags, let alone those of a mere student! As you can imagine, everyone was most curious to find out about the new violinist for whom Galamian himself served as a porter. Eugene was twenty at the time and even then he was very much the same as his adult self. He was confident and secure in manner, yet in many ways surprisingly simple and guileless. Nevertheless, he was most certainly one of the superstar players at the camp that summer along with Yo-Yo Ma, Dong-Suk Kang and Young-Uck Kim.
Sârbu as a boy in c. 1960
That summer was Eugene’s first time in North America and he was set to start at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia later in the fall. He told me that he had the choice of going to Moscow to study with David Oistrakh or to the US to study with Galamian. Having grown up in communist Romania he was worried that if he went to the USSR he would have had to fit into the bureaucratic Soviet system. He felt that America was more free, and that he would be able to be more of an individual there. Little did he know that he would encounter different kinds of political machinations, especially as Isaac Stern reigned supreme in the American musical world throughout the 1960s and ’70s.
After graduating from Curtis, Eugene continued his studies with Galamian at Juilliard. There he won the Juilliard Competition for the Brahms Violin Concerto (beating out several top guns at the school including the brilliant Shlomo Mintz). Eventually, through the recommendation of no less than Zino Francescatti, he signed with Columbia Artists Management. Despite being on the roster of one of the two biggest concert agencies in the US, he found himself relegated to the “community concert” circuit. Instead of playing with the major orchestra of the big cities, he was giving recitals in small American towns he had never heard of before.
Front row, fifth from left, Sârbu upon graduation from Curtis in 1972. Rudolf Serkin, Director of Curtis at the time, is second from the left on the top row.
Frustrated in his career, Eugene entered the Leventritt Competition for violinists in the fall of 1973, despite being advised against doing so by Galamian. I was in the audience at the finals and after hearing all three finalists I thought Eugene should most certainly have won. As it turned out, no prize was given, although another contestant – deemed the favorite before the competition even started – received an award of special merit created instantaneously at the event. Ironically, because he was a Leventritt Foundation finalist Eugene then found himself obligated to play under their auspices for a lower fee than that from Columbia Artists. That was the last straw that made him decide to leave the US.
Further studies with Nathan Milstein in Europe followed, and Eugene eventually moved to London in 1976. Despite already being a polished artist under management, for visa purposes he enrolled as a student at the Guildhall School, where he studied with Yfrah Neaman. For the next few years, Eugene made his living on the competition circuit, winning First Prize in both the Carl Flesch and Paganini Competitions in 1978. With the confidence of several major prizes behind him he ill-advisedly entered the Queen Elisabeth Competition for the second time in 1980. Despite being an audience favorite and winning the admiration of several judges, most notably Henryk Szeryng, his overconfidence irritated many others on the jury, and he placed far lower than he deserved.
After winning the Paganini competition in 1978.
It was while he was living in London that Eugene became seriously interested in violins. He became good friends with several local amateur players who were serious collectors, especially Norman Rosenberg and Simon Kuhn. Following their lead, he began acquiring violins at auctions and soon purchased his first major Cremonese instrument: a Tommaso Ballestrieri made in 1756. At this time Eugene discovered a genuine passion for violins and began studying and collecting them assiduously. He developed a keen eye and had a genuine love of their beauty as art objects, not just as investments.
Before long he had established a sideline career selling instruments privately, gradually upgrading to better instruments by means of successful deals. (He once told me somewhat ruefully how much easier it was to sell violins than to make a living by trying to get concert engagements.) He became a keen negotiator in his violin dealings and over the course of his life at least five Stradivari passed through his hands.
Nevertheless, he continued to perform actively especially in London and in Italy, where he was particularly admired. As well as giving several recitals at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, he was a soloist at the Proms and a frequent guest on the BBC. He also dabbled in conducting. He wasn’t a musical scholar by any means, but he had a fabulous natural ear. Often in rehearsals I recall him playing the accompaniment parts – from both the sonata and concerto repertoire – on the violin to demonstrate what he wanted. He created the European Masters Orchestra, comprised primarily of friends from Austria and Eastern Europe, which performed at the Royal Festival Hall with him as soloist and conductor.
Eugene Sârbu and Gordon Back at La Scala in 1980-81.
Photo: Lelli E. Masotti
Despite his innate facility for the instrument, Eugene wasn’t interested in acquiring an ironclad technique. He relied on his natural talent rather than careful detailed practice, and paid more attention to achieving a variety of colors than playing perfectly. Eugene had a silvery, shimmering sound, and was most definitely a Strad player. His larger-than-life personality could sometimes appear almost theatrical. And before a live audience he had that indefinable charisma.
Eugene had a lot of pride and often acted as if his concert career was flourishing even when it wasn’t. The confidence he exuded most certainly did not endear him to his violinist colleagues. Similarly, his almost obsessive passion and shrewdness in acquiring violins – especially at auctions – didn’t endear him to the violin establishment either. Yet despite his surface vanity, he could be very naïve in trusting others. Eugene didn’t let many people into his private circle, but among those he saw as real friends, he was extremely loyal. Furthermore, he was extremely devoted to his parents and his sister Carmina. Once he was established in Britain, he arranged to bring them all over from Romania and took care of them both financially and emotionally throughout his life.
His 1981 recording of the Sibelius concerto with Ole Schmidt and the Hallé Orchestra.
Eugene will be deeply missed by us who knew him but will be remembered by the general public as a unique and special musician. His playing had much imagination and fire, qualities that were especially evident when playing works like Enesco’s Third Sonata, Bartók’s Romanian Folk Dances and Scarlatescu’s Bagatelle. Thankfully, he made one commercial recording through which his artistry can be remembered: the Sibelius Concerto with the Hallé Orchestra conducted by Ole Schmidt on EMI’s “Classics for Pleasure” series. It’s a fabulous performance and one only wonders what his legacy would have been if his life circumstances and career opportunities had been different.