Out of Tune (7 page)

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.

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, the good-natured neighborhood
dog, who would often trot over to visit us. Then, suddenly, he took to kicking Bitzy—behavior that astonished us and made
me feel terribly angry.

It is difficult to know whether David’s strange behavior was merely an early sign of a difficult adolescence, or an indication
that something more serious was afoot. My parents never talked to me about David’s moods. Perhaps when they were alone they
discussed their talented son. Maybe they simply concluded that geniuses are prone to difficult periods. I believe that David
probably regarded all of us as competition and wanted to put us in our place so that he could be “the only star” in the house.

The way my parents spoiled David, in spite of his bad behavior, made growing up with him tough for the rest of us. As a reward
for playing the piano so brilliantly he was always given one more lamb chop or an extra pint of milk. My father felt that
David needed to be strong if he was to excel at playing the piano, and David had no problem obliging. He had such a voracious
appetite that he could eat six lamb chops at a single meal.

Despite David’s moods, the relationship between him and my father continued to be close. David was the apple of my father’s
eye, and my father did everything to encourage him. If there was any spare money, it was spent on nice new clothes for David.
The rest of us couldn’t help but be a little resentful of this special treatment, feeling that things should have been more
equally shared.

My father’s preoccupation with David was particularly hard on me, because I desperately wanted him to recognize my achievements
too. I took my Junior Certificate examinations at the age of fifteen and passed all nine subjects, from art to commercial
studies. This was an above-average performance in Perth and I proudly raced home to show everybody. When I rushed up to my
father and told him that I had passed my Junior Certificate he said, “Shhh, David’s practicing.” That was the only reaction
I got. The next day at school I found out that all the other children’s parents had given them radios, clothes, and all sorts
of presents for passing. But all I had received was a “Shhh, David’s practicing.”

I began to understand our situation better later in life. Books such as Carol Easton’s biography of English cellist Jacqueline
du Pré and a psychological study called
Nature’s Gambit
by David Henry Feldman taught me how hard it can be for the other siblings to get enough attention when there is an exceptionally
talented child in a family. It was especially so in our case, since we were all studying hard and learning musical instruments.

As he won praise on all sides, David’s arrogance grew. One particular incident in the spring of 1961 had quite an effect on
him. Shortly before David’s fourteenth birthday in May, the American violinist Isaac Stern and the pianist Abbey Simon were
on a tour of Australia. After hearing David perform at the West Australian State Final of the ABC Concerto and Vocal Competition,
the two musicians were very impressed. They described David as highly talented and suggested that it might be a good idea
for him to pursue his musical studies in the United States.

Stern and Simon were such celebrated personalities that their comments were taken up by the press and turned into feature
stories. The music critic of the Perth
Sunday Times
, James Penberthy, wrote a prominent front-page article. Under the heading “He’ll Bring Honor to Perth,” the paper announced
it was setting up a fund for David to send him to America. Initially David was quite upset by this article because it revealed
that he sat on a homemade stool, that he couldn’t reach the pedals, and that his pant legs were too short. But he soon became
very excited by all the media attention.

Many other papers followed the
Sunday Times
lead. Under the heading “Will He Be a Genius?” accompanied by a huge, half-page photo of my brother, a caption in one paper
stated: “David Helfgott is already being hailed as a coming genius who could bring great credit to Australia. Two world-famous
artists, Isaac Stern and Abbey Simon, have declared that David displays great promise and should go abroad to study.”

Another paper reported Simon as saying, “David should go to one of the great schools of music such as the Curtis Institute
in America”—a reference to the famous Philadelphia music school founded in 1924 by Mary Bok in memory of her father Cyrus
Curtis. Simon, who had also been a child prodigy, had himself studied at the Curtis Institute.

An especially glowing article appeared in
Woman’s Day
in July 1961. Entitled “Little Boy on Way to Fame,” it began: “Children, housewives, old people on an evening stroll often
pause a little awed, outside a modest home in Highgate, Perth. From the home tumbles a tempestuous stream of music played
with an intensity that moves everyone who hears. They are listening to a young pianist who could one day be one of Australia’s
greatest musicians—fourteen-year-old David Helfgott … He is believed to be the youngest pianist ever to reach the finals of
the ABC competition … David squirms with embarrassment when the conversation turns to him … He would have been horrified to
know that after he appeared on TV many Perth housewives phoned the station to describe David’s hands as the most beautiful
they had ever seen.”

The article by James Penberthy in the Perth
Sunday Times
, which started the whole ball rolling, also included a feature about the family. “The Helfgott family is rich in pride, talent,
and happiness,” Penberthy wrote, “but they have barely enough money for the necessities of life. Proud papa, Peter Helfgott,
a State Electricity Commission fitter, has a wife and five young children to support. Margaret, sixteen, who plays the piano
with great dash, passed the Junior Certificate with nine subjects. Leslie, ten, plays Paganini on the violin without any teaching.
Eight-year-old Susanna, also untaught, played some Rimsky-Korsakov on the piano. Baby Louisa, just nineteen months, only listens
with interest to the others.

“How Polish-born Peter and Rae Helfgott keep their family happy, well-fed, dressed, and educated in their humble home, is
quite beyond me,” Penberthy added. “Peter Helfgott told me: ‘We wanted to maintain some [musical] life in the house so we
managed to keep up payments on the piano.’ The Helfgotts are with justification a proud family—they ask help from no one.”

After a while, my father went to the Perth
Sunday Times
office to find out how much money had been raised to send David to the United States. But hardly anything had come in. Although
a donation had been sent from as far away as Canberra, and a prominent Perth businessman, Alec Breckler, had generously offered
to help, the sum raised was far short of that needed. David’s move to America was therefore not a realistic option.

To suggest, as
Shine
does, that my father had “refused” David permission to go to the States, and to hint that it was what his family had been
through during the Holocaust that had led him to make this irrational and unfair decision—one that would ultimately lead to
David’s breakdown and institutionalization—is not only a terrible slur on my father but also indirectly on all Holocaust survivors
and their descendants.

The whole thing was all in fact a case of misinterpretation. The media, taking their cue from the
Sunday Times
, wrongly reported or implied that Stern and Simon had actually made a concrete offer to David to study in the United States.
In reality, they had merely praised his playing and suggested, in an off-the-cuff kind of way, that he should consider going
abroad to study.

Isaac Stern was furious at the way
Shine
misrepresented what happened—in scene 21 of the published screenplay, the film refers to an “invitation” by Stern—and he
was surprised that Scott Hicks had not even consulted him about this. Stern even told journalists in 1997, after
Shine
came out, that he had never made any firm offer to David Helfgott.

However, in 1961, the young David, at once arrogant and naive, and caught up in the frenzy of all the press attention, let
his imagination run wild. He even convinced himself that he was actually going to live in Stern’s home in America.

James Penberthy and others in Perth musical circles, eager to put the city on the map as far as classical music was concerned,
were very keen that David follow Simon and Stern’s advice. But while my father shared their hopes and enthusiasm, he also
had to take account of parental concerns. He knew that David was incapable of looking after himself. He told those who were
making an effort to raise funds that if they enabled the whole family to go to America, then he would have no objection, because
we would be there to look after David. But as a father he couldn’t allow a young son—especially one with problems— to go off
on his own and fend for himself on the other side of the world.

My mother, my brother, and my sisters all think my father was right, as do I. To suggest, as
Shine
does, that my father was in some way mean-spirited is totally unfair. Holding back David’s career was not in the least my
father’s aim. He was extremely proud of his son and nurtured his talent in every way. He was David’s strongest advocate. But
allowing any boy who had just turned fourteen to live by himself so far away without proper provisions being made for him
would have been irresponsible, to say the least.

In David’s case, it would have been particularly inappropriate. He had never been abroad before; he was completely hopeless
in practical matters; and he needed to be looked after, cooked for, and cared for. He was also by that time behaving rather
erratically, although of course we did not know then that these may have been the first signs of a serious mental illness.
My father’s attitude was proved correct: when David did go to London of his own volition four years later, he fell ill and
ended up receiving psychiatric care.