Toni and Rosi

'Welcome to the famous duo pianists, Toni and Rosi Grunschlag.'

THEY START TO PLAY

Toni and Rosi Grunschlag are sisters.

Their career has been at two pianos.

They've supported each other,

rehearsed, played and lived together for 80 years.

I first videoed them in 2001.

DOG BARKS

Unknown to me, an American singer, Todd Murray,

also fell in love with them and their story and began to film them.

We've combined our material, professional and amateur,

shot over ten years, to tell the story

of these indomitable women and their lives together.

Lives saved by music, lived through music.

OK, now this is the office from Johnson.

They need endless information.

Well, tell them that.

I'm trying. Give me the number.

-508.

-That you don't need on your TV. Oh, no!

When they were trapped in Nazi-occupied Vienna,

it was music which opened the door to freedom.

-I'll tell you, anxiety is not the word for it.

-No.

It was a puzzle to solve at the moment. Life or death?

For these are lives which might not have been.

It was not an easy time, you know?

It wasn't heroic what we did. But we worked it out.

You know, we had determination.

In their concert career,

they toured Europe and played all over the United States.

Both parts are equally difficult.

Exchange. That's the beauty of our two pianos. Everybody's...

..equal. Equal.

It's not like one has the melody and the other one has the "um-pah-pah".

Ah, no, "Um-dah-dah, um-dah-dah."

-No.

-It's terrible.

-It's all equal.

See all these things?

This is Maria Theresa's petal.

Isn't that charming?

Much too nice for her. She was a great anti-Semite.

Do you know where we got this?

-She was a great anti-Semite.

-Ooh!

Her son Joseph was a much better emperor. Nicer.

You know, she... When she borrowed money from the Jews,

she had the Jew come, but she didn't want to see him,

so she had the curtain between.

-So...

-You can't imagine that.

-It's not very nice.

-You see? How beautiful?

You know what happened to her daughter Marie Antoinette. Anyway...

THEY LAUGH

And she was really unhappy.

Toni and Rosi were brought up in a tiny apartment

in the most musical city on Earth - Vienna in the 1920s.

I must tell you something, here.

You see Die Fledermaus, Gottfried Fischer?

My father and my mother went walking for a little spazieren.

And he saw these things and he said... Toni and I weren't born yet.

He said, "You see, some day our children will be advertised here."

And so it was!

You see?

The musical ambition of this Jewish family came from their father,

Morris, who'd left Poland for the United States

where he earned enough to travel to Vienna

to realise his dream of studying music.

He learned the trumpet, but never made a living from it.

He felt, "Who needs two cups of coffee in the morning

"when you can have the price of a ticket to go to a concert?"

Yes.

How shall I tell you?

When we were in Vienna,

we were very, very poor,

but we had lots of talent.

And my father couldn't get a position at all

because he wasn't a born Viennese.

From the start, Morris Grunschlag's three children

began to fulfil the hopes he held for them.

The eldest, David, was a brilliant violinist.

Toni was already a piano prodigy.

Then there was Rosi.

I couldn't walk or talk at two and a half.

My mother was very concerned.

I always said, "Play, play, play. Spielen, spielen."

So, they put me at a piano

and I started playing some of the things that I heard.

Somebody even wanted to buy me from my father,

but I was very proud to hear what my father said,

"You don't have enough money to buy my daughter."

At the heart of musical life in Vienna was the State Music Academy.

David was taught there by the great violin virtuoso,

Bronislaw Huberman, who'd chosen him for a scholarship.

Toni also had a scholarship and was taught by a pupil of Franz Liszt.

Then it was the turn of Rosi,

officially too young for the Academy, to audition.

So, after my audition...

..Kobalt, who was the President of the Academy...

He was the President.

..came out to see my father

and he said to him,

"Herr Grunschlag,

"bringen sie uns ihre anderen kindern.

-"Bring your other children."

-Because they were all amazing.

So, my father said,

"I'm so sorry, Mr President,

"but you have them all!"

You know?

Their childhood routine was strict.

Divided between home and school and the academy.

I remember distinctly, one girl invited me to her birthday party

and I was given permission to go, you know?

I mean, you know, you have school until one,

then you eat your big dinner.

By that time it's three o'clock. So I went at four o'clock,

so there is not so much time for practising left

if you take the time to gallivant.

So...I remember her name, Lilli Kudelka.

She invited me for her birthday party.

So, I went and just as I was beginning to eat the cake,

my father came and said, "It's time to go home."

But, well, I finished the cake, you know.

But that's how it was.

'Austria's problem has been to preserve her independence.

'She has been divided between...'

These were tumultuous years in Austria,

with political turmoil and civil war.

But the Grunschlag children were cocooned in a world of music.

Here was the upper school

and over there the lower school.

They are not open.

The sisters' musical talent

was beginning to be noticed by the Viennese newspapers.

Oh. There is something about Toni

in a student recital of the academy.

"Brilliant and fiery.

"Toni Grunschlag in the Rhapsodie Espagnole by Liszt

-"also had the strongest success of the evening."

-Ja, ja.

"The applause."

And you know what one of the fellows said afterwards?

It's a very powerful piece, you know,

it has also sections of delicacy in it,

but he said, "Ah, I heard your performance yesterday,"

on the street, he meant.

"I sure wouldn't like to get hit from you!"

War das reutenberger?

-Nein, das war ein anderer. Von deiner kollegen.

-Uh-huh.

No, for the Academy, yes.

Ah, that's me, finally, yes.

You know, Grosse Musikverein,

oh, such a beautiful hall.

When you go, you'll see a concert there. My brother was backstage.

He didn't have the nerves to sit out front, he was so worried.

Now, Bach Toccata In Fugue, I played.

I had my light blue taffeta dress...

Pa-pa-pa...

..and my patent leather shoes and white socks

and I had eleven bows.

He counted them. He counted them!

Musical careers in Vienna appeared to beckon,

but the world outside music could be kept at bay no longer

and the Grunschlag family was about to be split up.

Bronislaw Huberman, a Polish Jew,

refused to play anywhere under Nazi rule.

He founded the Palestine, later Israel, Philharmonic Orchestra

and invited David Grunschlag to join it.

Morris Grunschlag travelled to support his son.

His wife and daughters, now 15 and 21

and for so long sheltered from the world,

had to remain in Vienna on their own.

You had this feeling something bad was going to happen.

Lots of people in the street.

Groups of men were marching with their Hakenkreuz.

At the academy we were told,

"Cancelled. Everything cancelled."

A day or so later, on March 12th 1938,

the lives of all Jews in Austria would be changed forever.

The Germans marched across the border, greeted as heroes.

'Sieg heil! Sieg heil!

'Sieg heil! Sieg heil! Sieg heil!'

Two days later, Hitler entered Vienna in triumph.

At first, we locked ourselves in our apartment

and we saw the great, great enthusiasm

of the people, the bystanders.

A glorious entry into the city.

The neighbours, who were always so proud of us,

stopped talking to us, avoided us like we were poison.

The Nazis soon put their mark on the girls' beloved city.

And worse.

Then you heard the rumours. There was an enormous amount of rumours.

I mean that people disappears. They take some left and right,

you don't know, you don't hear anything anymore.

They took men for what reason at the beginning?

Any reason.

To kill them! Kill them!

If you are...

If you want somebody, you don't need a reason.

We just stopped practising because we thought, "Finished."

In the meantime, both teachers

sent to please come back and finish the year.

So, we came and Toni made her diploma

under the Nazis.

-With the highest honours.

-Highest honours.

-You want to see my...?

-Yes, can I see it?

You know where it is? In the laundry, in the linen closet. OK.

Rosi, where is it?

OK.

You'll have to come.

All right, wait a minute, wait.

The linen closet.

The linen closet contains a lot of important things.

Oh, my God.

-Signed Hakenkreuz.

-Swastika.

-Ja.

-Ja.

Kobalt was sitting there and he said,

"Toni Grunschlag, you are somebody."

It's the highest honour.

You can't go higher.

It's really beautiful and sunny.

See, I don't know all these little streets here.

You know, you saw so many... So many soldiers,

it was frightening.

When you heard the shoe steps, the boot steps

from the Nazis coming up the steps,

in a rhythmic way,

deliberate rhythm...

..you absolutely started shaking behind your closed door.

You didn't know which door...

..will they stop? And the heart was beating,

that you had to hold on it shouldn't fall out, you know?

Then, when he'd passed the door without incident...

..you said, "Thank the Lord."

But who did... Who did they get?

SPEAKS IN GERMAN

Uh-huh.

The family apartment, large room, small room and kitchen,

was on the 5th floor.

That was nearly 70 years ago.

Our men of the family were out.

It was just my mother,

who became panic-stricken,

and Toni and I.

I can't do that any more.

Every day, three or four times.

You see, no wonder we got a lot of exercise.

A-ha.

This is the apartment...

..where I was born.

You see, the people are not here anymore.

But you could only keep out of sight for so long.

One evening a man, a local shopkeeper, came to the door.

He said, "Come."

We were just eating supper,

night, evening time,

and so we left everything as is.

-And what did we do?

-We walked. What did we do?

He took us to the police station.

They put us in cells, there were prostitutes, all kinds.

It was crowded like sardines.

My mother was with us.

And then they took her out to someplace else and Toni insisted,

"I want to be with my mother, where's my mother, my mother?"

Well, finally, all right.

We were taken to a school

and stayed there overnight.

And then they let us go and they said,

"You go directly to the police station to report."

Well, you know, in Vienna, in Austria you are used to do as you're told.

We came, people lined up,

always lines.

We were given a number.

My mother was given a number, Toni and I.

You had to report six days a week.

To the police.

Bump, bump. Bump, bump. You gave your number, not your name.

It was open season in the city for persecuting Jews.

One night, a Nazi pushed his way into the small apartment.

He came and looked at the apartment.

The walls were just freshly decorated

and he said, "I'm moving in to the cabinet."

It's the smaller room.

-He was a terrible man.

-He was the lowest of the lowest.

A landstreicher. You know what a landstreicher is?

-A bum.

-A bum.

-OK.

And now we got it defined.

And he had his concubine.

So they moved in and they took...

And they had a big dog, a German Shepherd. He never barked at us.

He was the best of them.

You know, he brought up friends every night

and they talked and loud and scream and were drinking,

so that nice neighbour from across, she would tell us the next morning,

"I was so afraid, what happens if he throws in a door

"and kills you all, attacks you?

"Where are you going to go?"

-So, eventually...

-We knew. We knew.

We left.

Their piano was taken and other possessions.

They moved out to a room with a Jewish family nearby.

Here lived Goldman under us.

The father was taken shortly after by the Gestapo.

And, whatever happened to him,

we asked her later,

"What have you heard?"

"Oh, yeah, they sent his ashes home."

So. There you are.

People didn't know anything, really.

Best thing was not to ask and not to know.

In November 1938 came Kristallnacht,

the Night of Broken Glass,

a night of concerted attacks on Jewish premises.

4,000 Jews were sent to concentration camps.

Kristallnacht, oh, you heard all this glass,

the windows, all the stores.

It was a horrible night, horrible.

-Any of the Jewish stores, the windows...

-Boom!

-..were blasted.

We were not going out

and the neighbours thought that we had committed suicide

as a lot of other people did.

Toni and her friend Valli went for a walk.

Well, they were taken right on the street

to brush the street clean

while people looked, laughed and spit on them.

The Austrian borders were sealed. The girls' desperate hope,

along with thousands of other Jews, was to get visas to leave.

In January 1939, they heard that their father and brother

in Palestine had been able to secure a visa only for their mother.

She cried and cried and, you know, we took her to the train,

she couldn't say enough goodbye and we were happy.

We were relieved, Toni and I.

-We never felt afraid.

-We felt... Yes, Toni, don't say that.

You know you are a big cheese here but, you know,

I tell you that we were feeling that we were young.

We were healthy. She was not.

That we could even walk illegally over the border if necessary.

Toni was lining up on the American Embassy

with all the men to get a piece of paper to...

-I was a little girl!

-She was, you know,

lining up with the men all night, around the clock at the embassy.

She tried everything.

She usually was an optimist,

but it was hard to stay that way.

The girls were alone and trapped.

Out of the blue, it was music that offered the possibility of escape.

Somebody told us that Huberman was in Budapest,

playing concerts.

He was a big cheese.

You have no idea how big he was.

-Toni wrote...

-I wrote a very...

-"Dear Maestro."

-..pitiful letter.

"Dear Maestro.

"We are here, alone. My mother has gone to my brother.

"We have to... How will we get out? You're our only hope."

Do you know...

-..we had a telegram from him.

-From him.

From the train.

"I am from Budapest going to... on my way to Zagreb

"and will be in London, will try what I can."

-He did. He did.

-Very laconic,

very Spartan, but it told us a lot.

He was a wonderful man.

He went to London.

In three weeks, we had student visas.

We did not go to the... to collect the visa personally

because in case the nose didn't fit to them,

or maybe you said something that wasn't suitable.

You become... You become paranoid. I'm telling you,

under these circumstances you don't think normal anymore.

And with the visas came passports, issued by the Nazis.

You see the Hakenkreuz?

-Yeah.

-Can you show me inside?

Not too much. This is my picture.

-Very pretty.

-Yeah, and pigtails.

SHE LAUGHS

The Germans had, by now, invaded Czechoslovakia,

and while the sisters were ready to go, they were still far from safe.

This must be it.

Toni and Rosi received a monthly stipend

from the coal and steel company, Gutmann Brothers,

which supported young musicians.

The company was now in German hands and Toni and Rosi were summoned.

They sent a postcard.

"You are requested to come and bring your...

"Show your ancestry."

-They were in a beautiful palace.

-Beautiful.

Excellent.

The big sign, "Juden. Eintritt verboten."

"Jews are not permitted here."

So, we went there. We come in...

..was handsome German, I think an SS officer.

He clicked his heels...

No, I don't think he did that.

And he said,

"Was your father employed here for his many years of service?"

He didn't know what the money was for.

So we said, "No, die gebruder Gutmann

"were music-loving people,

"we studied, we are students of music

-"and they supported."

-They were good to us.

He said, "We want to finalise this now. I'll tell you what,

"bring your entire family, every one of your family,

"this afternoon and each one will get this amount of money

"and everyone will sign that, no more, that's it."

Well, is this a trap?

So, we walked the streets.

Should we or shouldn't we?

It was a tremendous moment, what can I tell you?

-Anxiety is not the word for it.

-No.

Life or death?

What if they take us?

Nobody would know.

We were the only ones left in the family.

I'll tell you.

We went back.

We went back and we said, "Well, here we are."

He had the money ready.

We told him that we're going...

..that our papers are ready to go.

"Ich wuensche ihnen viel glueck in ihren neuen heimat."

That's what he said.

"I wish you lots of luck in your new home."

He recognised something in us.

He clicked his heels and said...

-Aufwiedersehen.

-A handsome, handsome man.

He was a good Nazi.

At last, on 23rd of April 1939, they were at the station.

An officious railway inspector

was all that stood between them and the train out.

The suitcase he didn't want because he didn't know.

He said, "How do I know? I cannot look at this."

He saw it was music but, you know, you can have something in-between.

-So, he said, "How do I know? I cannot tell."

-You don't know.

"Cannot go through."

-Oh, I know.

-Ja, so Toni said...

-How did you know to give him money?

-Oh, because being Viennese, you can.

-Wien. Wien...

-You know?

-Wien.

A drink, a drink, a drink.

So, you speak a little dialect to him.

You say...

Why would I think of something like what you are saying?

You know?

I tell you, that was it.

Out.

Out.

One thing, out.

A European war was now certain, but still a few months away.

German soldiers patrolled the train

which had to take them first into Germany,

then 500 miles across it...

..until at last they reached the border with Holland.

Oh, that was really a wonderful feeling, you know?

Finally freedom.

'200 boys and girls wave a greeting to England, land of the free.

'The advanced guard of the first 5,000 Jewish and non-Aryan

'child refugees to be provided with a temporary home here

'while arrangements are made for them to emigrate.'

Like these other refugees from Europe,

the sisters arrived in Britain

knowing no-one and little of the language.

'What a blessing to be young.'

So, we made it to London and there the Jewish Agency was wonderful.

For a tuppence, you could have lunch there,

which consisted of sandwiches, hot tea, fruit,

and if you're very young enough, a piece of sweet.

Which I got, always, you know.

Very soon, the Jewish Relief Agency

found someone willing to offer them a temporary home.

Her name was Alison Bagenal.

We had a call that a lady wanted to see us.

Very typically English person.

-We did not all understand her English.

-No.

And because our English was rather limited at that time

and so some of her words were... I'd never heard.

The word like "preps",

which was really "perhaps",

but it was hard to separate the syllables.

And asking us many questions. Our English was not very good.

If we played tennis, or horseback riding or this and that.

And we said, "No, no." We must have sounded rather boring.

But the only thing we could say that we played a piano.

And she wanted one girl for two months,

but she had to be musical in case they couldn't stand her,

at least the music would, kind of, help over the two months.

Here we are, Rosi. Over there.

It's like a labyrinth

Oh, this side, yes.

The Bagenal family that took them in

lived in the Hertfordshire countryside, just north of London.

The house is still in the same family.

She had an upright piano

and we were used to playing on a grand.

Excuse me for saying to be oh, so...

SHE LAUGHS

But then, of course, I knew that we had to show what we can do.

This is the moment.

What did you play?

Oh, I'll tell you what I played.

I played... I had in my fingers still...

The Liszt Rigoletto Paraphrase.

# Da-da-da-da... #

PIANO MUSIC PLAYS

We played for the benefit of her church.

We went to entertain some of the people, and all that,

and I think she enjoyed us, too, as much as we appreciated her.

She enjoyed us very much.

She gave us back our emotional stability, I would say,

which you can't measure.

You know, she was playing with Rosi or with me.

She was playing with you four hands, duets. Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn.

What happened in the kitchen?

In the kitchen, the supper was cooking in the meantime, and then,

"Oh, oh, oh! I think I'd better look at the supper,"

you know, and she ran and, a little bit, it was burned, not too bad.

The stay became five happy months of freedom.

Really lovely.

Imagine waking up to this.

No wonder, you know we had very happy days here. Very happy.

But Britain was now at war and their father planned a new family home

in the still-neutral United States.

"They were really sad at going and their sorrow

"made them quite helpless and rather quarrelsome with each other."

Alison Bagenal wrote about the girls' last days in England.

"On Sunday evening, Rosi wept over supper.

"Toni had bad toothache and wept, too.

"Rosi fled to the dark drawing room and after a few minutes

"played her Beethoven better than she has ever played it."

"I saw them off early next morning on the boat train.

"It was a sad parting."

We left and, you know, I don't know who cried more.

We, or she.

It was a very hard parting.

In October 1939, seven weeks after Britain declared war on Germany,

Toni and Rosi sailed to New York on the SS Washington.

Their parents were still waiting to leave Palestine,

so Toni and Rosi were to stay with an uncle they'd never met.

After a day or two we told him we have to get to a piano.

We just simply have to.

"All right, we'll try the Plymouth Church." He lived in Brooklyn.

It's on Orange and Pineapple Street,

I remember distinctly.

And they said, yes,

that we could practise mornings there,

but in return we had to reciprocate

and play for their Friday-night social.

Which we did.

Six week after Toni and Rosi landed, their parents did arrive.

The family made itself known to the local Rabbi.

To make some money, the girls played for members of his congregation.

Then he collected money for us.

He said, "A dollar for a minute."

So, Toni played a campanella. How many minutes did it take?

I don't know.

So, anyway, we have ten dollars. 15 dollars for this piece.

And so he made us a hundred dollars.

My goodness, I think we were right next to Rockefeller at that time.

The family didn't dwell on what might have been.

Their need was to build a new life for themselves

in an America now at war.

They moved into a one-bedroom apartment

on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It was a squeeze.

Parents in the bedroom, the girls and grand piano in the living room.

That was 1943. They've been in the same building ever since.

My father worked, during war years, nightshift

in order to buy us this Steinway, right here.

Which we bought second-hand for 850.

Very beautiful piano, still, to this day.

My mother was very happy in Manhattan.

She was really happy, we began to have a more regulated life.

It was more, very, you know, home life, we began to have.

The close-knit Grunschlag family from a small apartment in Vienna,

was now a tight family unit in New York,

the girls, seeking to restart their careers in music.

And they got a break. A chance to play for Olin Downes.

Olin Downes was the top critic of the New York Times.

Very important man. He could make or break you.

He looked at his watch, he said,

"I have exactly 15 minutes, that's all."

-Boy!

-"Let's go."

All right. Toni played, then I played.

You know, became an hour and a half.

-One hour and a half.

-And do you know what he said?

He said, "You know, you are so different

"in character of playing,

"that I think you ought to join into two-piano team."

-He said, "Go out and play."

-He gave us the idea of even going.

We never thought about it. That wasn't in our mind.

They made their debut as a piano duo at New York Town Hall

shortly before the end of World War Two in March 1945.

They were signed up by the great piano-maker, Steinway...

..played at Carnegie Hall, toured Europe

and performed alongside many famous names.

"I heartily recommend to you this disc...

"Exuberant."

I tell you, we were good.

Their mother died in New York in 1949.

Brother David had remained in Israel.

The girls continued to live with their father

in the same building where there were now two grand pianos.

In a few years, they were able to buy a summer home on Cape Cod.

Where there also had to be two grand pianos.

A piano duo requires a particular affinity between the players.

And many leading duos have been married. Or brothers or sisters.

It's all I dreamt about.

Just piano?

Rosi and I.

I don't remember that I ever went out with anyone in particular.

Now, this is a very young picture

and that was my boyfriend. You're asking for boyfriends?

Here is my boyfriend.

Erich. He was a neighbour of the house.

I can't believe there weren't a lot more, Rosi, when I see you.

Oh, there were. There were, but, you know, have to be strong.

There was a suitor. Hymie, a South African jazz fan

who was invited to stay with the family on Cape Cod.

And in the morning he started off... Mind you, before coffee...

# Oh, baby! Oh, baby! #

And, me, we were shocked.

Didn't say anything and listened.

My father looked at me and I looked at him.

What's this?

And he said, "I will ask your father for your hand,"

and I told him right then, "Don't."

Let's face it,

every man wants his six o'clock dinner on time

and, you know, as a musician you cannot have six o'clock

or six thirty on time, the dinner on the table.

This was a family that was hard to break into.

But there were friends and music.

I can't remember anyone that didn't like music

that was in our circle, actually.

You know, concerts, "Did you hear so-and-so, what did you think?"

It always was connected to music.

To supplement their concert income,

Toni Grunschlag, from Vienna, decided to teach.

Not just anywhere, but at one of America's top girls' schools.

And the headmistress would like to meet her

at the Plaza for lunch.

I think the lunch was really planned to see table manners,

if she would fit in with the nice class of girls

that are being educated there.

Started in September, and with the first class

she was right away a success.

And where Toni went, Rosi was sure to follow.

They taught at the school for 24 years.

They made friends with a fellow teacher.

She moved into their apartment building in New York 40 years ago,

and she's still there.

Very definite ideas.

Quite inflexible ideas.

Once they believe something

or they know something, that's it.

You're not going to change their minds about anything.

When I'm, sort of, wavering a bit,

I think it needs a Grunschlag to stiffen my spine in some way.

Then tell the agency that you'll take them

before they're being given away to someone else.

We have always had good reviews.

You know what our great thing is?

That we play with great spontaneity.

-It's alive.

-It's alive. We play with great life.

-Full of living.

-A lot of people played perfect, letter perfect.

And there are some that are very wonderful, but are not very great.

So, you know.

Toni and Rosi, rigorous in everything,

would perform only music written for two pianos.

So they delved into the archives

to make the first recording of the Dussek Double Concerto,

composed 300 years ago.

PHONE RINGS

Hello?

Ja.

Tomorrow morning, but in the evening I'm going to the theatre.

-Have you liked the Dussek?

-It's very nice.

-It's nice.

-I'd better go!

Their father only retired at 87 when the firm closed down.

He died six years later, on Cape Cod.

Wow, look at that. Oh, he gives me a chance.

Thank you.

Toni cooked, we both shopped

and I washed up. It was 50/50.

Second only to music, was family duty.

Toni and Rosi housed their brother's teenage son for three years

and also looked after his young sister, Dorit.

They took very seriously

the need to make me into a proper young lady

and I remember vividly, um,

them telling me we're going down town and going by the subway

and they thought that I should wear white gloves going to the subway.

Now, this is the '60s in New York.

It was always looked on as a joint thing

and I guess, as a young person, I should have realised

that they were two separate individuals, but I didn't.

I thought of them...

And to this day it's hard for me to separate one from the other.

Well, I thought, "Oh, this is going to be a good performance."

See, that's our...

They continued to attack music with the same spirit they attacked life.

LAUGHING OK. You see me hanging on.

SHE LAUGHS

They turned more and more to 20th-century music.

Several composers wrote specially for them.

Nothing was too challenging.

They gave the first American performance

of the Hindemith Sonata for two pianos.

It's a wonderful piece. You know?

It's a terrific piece.

You know what it does? It...it makes you rise inside.

# Bom-bom, bi, bom-bom-bom. #

There are pieces that make you feel good when you play it.

The fugue is very good. Oh, this is gorgeous!

With others you are joyful, you feel like dancing.

But this really makes you...

stand up.

-We're very critical of each other.

-You are?

We are critical of each other, ja!

Rosi will tell me, "Toni, keep quiet."

Ja, I mean, you know, whatever needs to be done.

But, I mean, that's OK, you don't worry about it.

You don't get insulted

because you know it's for the good of the performance.

You have to make comment what it's like.

I don't know, Toni.

I thought I played it.

Toni, you didn't. This is us here, then we go from here.

I'll have to come in again.

DOG BARKS Oh, quiet. We don't need your competition.

Shall I tell you about her illness? '93?

There were two shattering blows.

Rosi was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Within 36 hours, illness struck Toni.

Saturday morning, seven o'clock.

I got up

and I see Toni is already downstairs.

Unusual. The dog too.

Now, the dog doesn't go by itself down the stairs.

And she's down there...

..and I said, "Toni..."

..and she only said, "Ja, ja, ja, ja, ja?"

I noticed something was wrong.

She'd suffered a brain haemorrhage

and was rushed to hospital in Boston.

She didn't know me.

She didn't recognise me.

She couldn't talk,

she couldn't walk.

After nearly three months, Rosi, being treated for cancer herself,

fought to get Toni a different doctor and different treatment.

Well, it was a different Toni.

"Oh, Rosi! Here you are, how are you?"

You know, she recognised me. She talked.

It was again music which signalled the change in their lives.

There was a little upright, a little spinet

and she said to me, "What shall I play?"

And I said to her, "Play the opening of the Chopin Nocturne In C Minor."

And Toni played it.

Then she said, "What else should I play?"

And I said, "Why don't you play the Chopin Fantasie?"

# Dor-r-r rum, ba-ba, rom. #

She played it. I knew she would play.

PIANO MUSIC

You know, you don't feel dressed without the lipstick.

It's part of the dressing.

You're talking.

Oh, good. I'm a good person.

I'm smiling.

-I don't have any lipstick, have you got it?

-It's in here.

-OK.

67 years after they'd fled Vienna,

Toni and Rosi were invited back

to play at events commemorating the holocaust,

from which they had been saved.

I came back, the first time, in '68.

Ja. Very mixed feelings.

And, you know,

I looked at everybody's face in the streetcar...

..and I wondered...

"..What were you doing at that time?"

-But it's been in the newspaper.

-Ja.

-And on TV.

-Ooh, yes.

-Sit straight. Naughty.

Toni, very ill again, was in her 90th year.

They played three concerts in two days.

65,000 Austrian Jews had perished.

Thanks to music, Toni and Rosi had escaped.

You cannot erase the things from your memory,

you cannot erase them from your mind.

In the past, it was always the Jews

that was blamed and persecuted

for anything that was...went bad.

Bad harvest, the water was poisoned, the Jews did it.

Therefore I wanted to tell young people to study.

Learn what you can.

Because when you have to run,

today maybe the Jew, tomorrow the Catholic

and the day after the Protestants, it doesn't take much.

When you have to run for your life, you cannot take your money with you,

nor your house, but your education no-one can take.

That is your transportable asset.

They were thrilled to be playing here again.

For Toni, it was to be the last time.

Six months later, she died.

The life-sustaining and life-enhancing powers of music remain.

I've always thought that their relationship

was closer than a marriage, because it lasts throughout life

and with Toni and Rosi they had gone through so many hardships together,

they'd survived together and they worked together.

They had to be totally in synch.

They almost felt each other's pulse.

Was there ever a possibility

that you wouldn't have shared life together here, Rosi?

Never.

Never.

Didn't come into question.

It just didn't occur.

Toni always, kind of, protected me and looked after me and, you know...

And it was a very complete, shared life.

I miss that.

Uh... Rosi, you're going too fast for me!

Though one half of this duo has gone, Rosi is ever-optimistic,

continuing to attack life with spirit.

She's learning new repertoire.

In 2010, she gave recitals in London and New York.

She's excited about a new CD of recordings she made with Toni.

Toni and Rosi, two lives sustained by love, saved by music.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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