‘If you have done something for 80 or 90 years, how can you stop doing it anymore?’

After a long career teaching piano in Chicago, Leo Podolsky moved to Burbank and felt an urge to play again. He recently performed before a large audience at St. Joseph Medical Center and will play at small concerts in preparation for a tour next year. Podolsky was born in Russia 94 years ago.

I’ve played concerts on four continents: Asia, from Tokyo all the way down to Bombay; all of Europe; South America--I was four months in Buenos Aires--and then, of course, North America. Four continents, quite a life. One hundred thirteen sea voyages.

In Java, on a small island near Surabaja, getting to the concert meant going by train. And that train goes so slow that if you drop a hanky you can go pick it up and get back onto the train. Misery to sit in that heat on wooden benches.

Some people in the hotel told me a German salesman will drive a car, and it will take you only 2 1/2 hours instead of seven on the train. He had an old Ford, and he wanted to beat the record. He was driving furiously fast. Midway, coming upon a bridge, there was a deep hole. So he goes bang, and my whole face is full of blood. When we arrived at last, the secretary of the club saw me and nearly fainted. “What to do?” I said, “I can’t play a concert like this.”

“Impossible,” he said. “In Java they work hard, maybe twice a year they have concerts. They get paid every 14 days and they come to the concerts as an outlet from the terrific strain in this heat and they can put the knife in the back. So you cannot postpone or change the concert, there’ll be a riot.”

We decided there will be a screen covering me. They’ll hear the music, and I’ll be behind the screen. As it turns out, there’s a riot anyway because they’re drinking. They throw everything. I found sardines, a dead mouse, everything.

When I lived in Paris, I was striving hard to make a living. I joined the American Club. The woman in charge, a very nice American lady married to a Russian, took a fancy to me and my wife. At seven in the morning one day she came to tell me about a Mrs. Elizabeth Day, a singer who was expecting a pianist to audition at 11 a.m. She gave me the address and said be there at 10:45. I was there.

After a half a page we were on very good terms. I am wonderful! By the time I was leaving I saw another pianist just pushing the button to come in. It was too late. I got the job.

She played three concerts: in Berlin, on the French Riviera and in Holland. She was very pleased. Then she asked me would I like to go to play concerts in the United States. Who is not dreaming of coming to the United States? Is there a person? I arrived in New York on the 31st of December, 1925. You can imagine the square in New York.

I thought that Chicago was my city. It’s a wonderful city to visit. It couldn’t be more stunning. A friend from Paris met me at the train and brought me to a restaurant on Michigan Avenue. Two ladies were there and one was the president of Sherwood Music School, Miss Georgia Kober.

Before leaving the school that day I had a 10-year contract to teach. I stayed 58 years.

I don’t believe in retirement. Why? What for? To wait until you go to the grave? If you have done something for 80 or 90 years, how can you stop doing it anymore?

The best of me is today, this minute. I’ve been invited to go to China. I thought I’d give up playing in halls several years ago, but there I understand I have to play for 1,200 people. So to reinstate myself I’m trying out this program in different homes, different places, different pianos, different acoustics, different crowds, different number of people, whatever it is. I’ve already played eight times in such conditions. And every time it’s getting better and better.