A Segovia story is, I think, worth a bit of thread creep. I heard this with my own two fat, flappin' ears.

It was after the aforementioned question-and-answer workshop in 1960. The Seattle Classic Guitar Society members in attendance, along with Segovia, adjourned to Arnie Pearson's house. Segovia sat in the big easy-chair with his pipe in one hand and a snifter of brandy in the other and held court. Various people walked up to chat with him. I was sitting on the sofa about six feet away, taking in everything the Maestro said. Segovia was gracious and eloquent in offering encouragement and answering questions; the very picture of the cultivated European gentleman and the venerated virtuoso.

One fellow asked Segovia about a recording of a Bach piece he had done. He asked him about his interpretation and wondering why he had handled it the way he did. Segovia explained his feelings about what he thought Bach was getting at in that particular piece and how he had endeavored to express that. The fellow was not satisfied. He persisted. Segovia restated his feelings about the piece. "Yes, but—" the fellow went on, disagreeing with Segovia and explaining to him how he thought the piece should be interpreted. Segovia listened to him patiently, showing no signs of irritation, then when the fellow ran out of breath, he asked, "Young man, how old are you?" "Thirty-two," the fellow answered, a bit puzzled as to why Segovia would ask his age. "Ah!" said Segovia. "Would you do me a favor?" "Certainly," said the young man. "Please," Segovia said. "Don't play Bach until you are at least fifty-five."

Point taken. The fellow shrunk down to about three inches tall and slunk away.

Don Firth