Pittsburgh pianist William Chrystal died on Friday, August 29th. He was my teacher.

When I turned nine years old, my mother started driving me to Mr. Chrystal’s home in Mt. Lebanon. Mom would deal with the traffic on Banksville Road, park the station wagon on McCully Street, wish me luck, and wait for me to climb the long stone staircase that led to his studio. I’d stand in front of his door with my fingers hovering over the bell. On the other side of the door, I would hear the cautious tempo of the student before me. I imagined the silent disapproval that met each mistake, and heard the scratch, scratch, scratch of Mr. Chrystal’s blue and red pencils as he circled mistakes the student had made while plodding through the music.

Eventually, I would muster up enough courage to ring his bell. He would answer the door, all smiles, and have me take a seat on the couch in his studio, where I witnessed the praise, the humiliation, the confusion, the triumph of the student ahead of me.

Mr. Chrystal was a taskmaster, a drill sergeant, and a wizard pianist. He scared me with his stern voice and strict regimen, but I loved how he put ideas in my head and pulled music out of my fingers. It seemed a kind of magic.

Until I hit my teen years I had been improving at a steady pace, playing in competitions and developing a small classical repertoire. But when I started junior high school a terrible thing happened. The other kids made fun of me because I played the piano. “Classical music,” they said. “How queer.” After a conference with my parents, Mr. Chrystal began encouraging me to read lead sheets and chord symbols. He taught me how to do my own arrangements. He showed me how to quiet the adolescent noise in my head by writing innocent songs about growing up. I went from being an angst-ridden nerd to being cool. At thirteen, that’s far more important than a Bach Invention. Mr. Chrystal found a way to keep me playing the piano.

So I played and played and played. I eventually left Pittsburgh, moved to New York City, and carved a career for myself as a pianist, composer, and writer of books about music. I never lived up to Bill’s impossibly high standards, but, with the exception of Stephen Flaherty (who went on to a spectacular career as a Broadway and film composer), none of his students did. I still wonder how far I might have gone if I had remembered to sit up straighter and curve my fingers a little more.

Hundreds of students passed through that McCully Street door. Bill taught his students to tame life’s chaos by conquering the tricky musical passages he assigned to us. In our playing, he heard the sound of hope—not the smooth-edged hope of easy optimism, but hard-earned hope, the kind that comes from determination. Bill Chrystal taught me that music gives back whatever I put into it. Music is an art that cannot be mastered, but joy awaits anyone who is willing to try. Four decades after that first jittery lesson, I’m still reaping the benefits of his wisdom.

I live in Europe now. I’m a long way from home, but I still hear the musical voices of my childhood whenever I sit down and play. Every time I touch the piano, Bill Chrystal is there, reprimanding me for a careless mistake or sloppy fingering. His imposing physical presence at the side of the Steinway is a tiny voice in the back of my head. Sometimes, not often enough, I catch myself playing a passage the way he would have played it, clear and perfect and full of life, and it takes my breath away. What a beautiful gift he gave me.


(This article first appeared on September 5th in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. You can view the original by going to:
http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/08249/909601-294.stm
Many thanks to the editors of this newspaper for recognizing the importance of good piano teachers, the unsung heroes of the music world)

And thank you Robin, for writing it and posting it here for those of us who don't get the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. I, too, have fond memories of my teacher, who was extremely patient with me. Isn't it interesting that you often hear about how bad someone's piano teacher was when they were a child, and not as often about the good ones. And the fact that your teacher was strict was actually a good thing...how wonderful that you recognize that now. I'll have to check out your book, you have a nice writing style (and great subject matter :p )!

Thanks so much for your kind words. Do you still have contact with your teacher? He/she must be proud to know that you're now a teacher yourself!

I suspect you're being a little hard on yourself here... I have got to believe that Mr. Chrystal was undoubtedly extremely proud of you and your successes.

What a heart-warming story and tribute to your teacher.

Incidentally, your 4th paragraph would be a great addition to the other thread going on right now about motivating a teenage boy to continue with piano. Just think how your life might have been different if your teacher *hadn't* been willing to be flexible with your curriculum and help you enjoy continuing with piano.

I really enjoyed reading this tribute!

My second piano teacher was Don Janse in New London, Connecticut. He was a meaningful and inspiring person to me although his forte was vocal-choral music and his career was a bandmaster at the US Coast Guard Academy.

He later went back to Potsdam/UNY - Crane School of Music for his doctorate.

He energized music and gave it a purpose and everything that groomed me for a potential career of my own came through what I learned through him.

He died in 1999 - and it came to me then, that I had loved him as the fine person and exceptional musician he was for my whole life.

Writing this is causing a clouding up along with a smile, so I'm glad I felt this while reading William Chrystal's tribute from his student.

The thing we forget is that when you have been a teacher for a long time, you have contributed and generated these kinds of feelings among your students.

And, the legacies live on...from one to another.

Betty Patnude

What a great teacher and a great tribute! Thank you so much for sharing.

Dan and Laura

There is no greater calling in life than that of a teacher.

And to be a music teacher is an even higher calling in my opinion, as you are able to share the gift of music, which is one of life's greatest joys.

Thanks for sharing this.

Thanks so much everyone, for writing. I've gotten some nice emails in response to the column that ran in the Pittsburgh paper, as well.

It's heartwarming to know that this piece has people thinking about their teachers. A friend of mine here in Germany is producing a radio show about piano teachers. She is interviewing musicians about their memories of childhood teachers. Great idea. Someone should do a similar program in the USA.

I'm a fish out of water here in the teachers' forum. Here's a toast to all of you who are making a huge difference in the lives of your students!