Władysław Szpilman (1911–2000). “The” pianist
Mediathek Sorted
The Berlin years
The professors in Warsaw were quick to notice the young pianist’s talent. The same was true at the Berlin Academy of the Arts (Akademie der Künste), where he enrolled aged 20 on a scholarship. Here, he continued his piano training with professors Artur Schnabel and Leonid Kreutzer, and also studied composition with Franz Schreker. This time spent in Berlin would later play an important role in Szpilman’s professional life. At that beginning of the 1930s, culture was flourishing in the vibrant metropolitan city. In the clubs, jazz was king, and the revues which were popular at the time attracted huge audiences from far and wide. “To the guest from Poland, Berlin only confirmed his conviction that the city, with its rhythm, the pattering of the passers-by and the honking of the cars and buses, had to provide the background noise for light music. Also, the themes in these songs should no longer be withered flowers on the graves of love, but sport, the new buildings and the changes in the structure of the city.”[5] It was in Berlin that Szpilman wrote his first symphonic works, as well as the Suite for Piano “Życie maszyn” (“The Life of the Machines”).
In 1933, following the seizure of power by the National Socialists and the rise in anti-Semitism, Szpilman decided to leave Berlin and return to Warsaw, where he continued his training with the legendary pianist Aleksander Michałowski. Soon afterwards, he began playing as a duo with the famous violinist Bronisław Gimpel, and the two enjoyed a high level of success. Two years later, Szpilman began composing light music. His début was the song “Jeśli kochasz się w dziewczynie” (“If you Love a Girl”), with a text written by Emanuel Schlechter. Mieczysław Fogg performed his interpretation of the song in the comedy musical “Kot w worku” (“The Cat in the Sack”) in the Cyrulik Warszawski cabaret theatre in Warsaw.
In 1935, Władysław Szpilman began working for Polskie Radio, the Polish national radio broadcaster. For him, this was a dream come true: “My fascination for the radio began in 1927, when as a poor student I bought myself a weak crystal radio receiver. I was delighted when I managed to hear sounds coming through on my headphones. In the building at 25 Zielna Street, where Polskie Radio was based after 1929, there were two studios. In one of them, there was a Steinway grand piano. That’s where I played. I came to work every day and did what I had to do. Mostly I played as an accompanist.”[6] During this time, Szpilman was also performing on stage, giving concerts with stars such as the aforementioned Bronisław Gimpel, Henryk Szeryng and Roman Totenberg. As a composer, he also enjoyed career success, writing a large number of popular songs of the pre-war period, including “Nie ma szczęścia bez miłości” (“There’s no Happiness Without Love”) and “Straciłem twe serce” (“I’ve Lost Your Heart”). He also composed film music, including for the 1938 melodrama based on the novel “Wrzos” (“The Heath”) by Maria Rodziewiczówna, and for the 1939 film “Doktor Murek” by Tadeusz Dołęga-Mostowicz.
The catastrophe begins
The outbreak of war brought Szpilman’s career to an abrupt halt. Suddenly, the contracts he had signed, compositions that he had started and concert dates already agreed no longer counted for anything. On 23 September 1939, the date on which that memorable last live programme in occupied Warsaw went on air, Szpilman’s employment came to an end. In the days that followed, particularly on 25 and 26 September, the level of violence by the Germans escalated. Szpilman spent this period in an apartment owned by friends, who took him in together with his parents and siblings. On 28 September, at 1:15 pm, Generals Tadeusz Kutrzeba and Johannes Blaskowitz signed the capitulation of Warsaw in the Skoda plant in the district of Rakowiec. It was not until two days later that Szpilman dared to go out onto the street. The city had been entirely destroyed, and the scenes were apocalyptic: “I came home in a deep depression: the city no longer existed – or so I thought at the time, in my inexperience. Nowy Świat was a narrow alley winding its way through heaps of rubble. At every corner I had to make detours round barricades constructed from overturned trams and torn-up paving slabs. Decaying bodies were piled up in the streets. The people, starving from the siege, fell on the bodies of horses lying around. The ruins of many buildings were still smouldering.”[7]
On the walls in the city, the Germans had posted notices in two languages, assuring the people of Warsaw that they would be given work and a life of dignity; also, that the Jews would be guaranteed their full rights and that their property would not be touched. However, it quickly transpired that these were no more than empty promises in a cynical attempt to gain the trust of the local population. The situation in the city worsened from one day to the next. The repressive measures meted out to the Jewish community, which made up a third of the population, became increasingly severe as time went on.[8] At first, Jewish banknotes were confiscated and Jews were prohibited from working. Then, they were forced to wear armbands with the Star of David. Their shops and businesses were also subject to stigmatisation. In early 1940, the synagogues were closed, and shortly afterwards, the districts of the city where the Jews lived were surrounded by barbed wire – ostensibly due to the risk of epidemics. During this period, the Warschauer Zeitung newspaper, which was published in Polish by the Germans, issued a propaganda article quoted by Władysław Szpilman in his Warsaw memoirs: “... not only were the Jews parasites, they also spread infection. They were not, said the report, to be shut up in a ghetto; even the word ghetto was not to be used. The Germans were too cultured and magnanimous a race, said the newspaper, to confine even parasites like the Jews to ghettos [...] Instead, there was to be a separate Jewish quarter of the city, where only Jews lived, where they would enjoy total freedom, and where they could continue to practice their racial customs and culture.”[9]
[5] Groński, Ryszard Marek: Pianista Warszawy [The City Pianist of Warsaw], in: Polityka, Vol. 49/2011, 30/11/2011, p. 88.
[6] Radio programme “Ludzie Polskiego Radia” [“The People from Polish Radio”], Anna Skulska in conversation with Władysław Szpilman, https://www.polskieradio.pl/39/156/Artykul/2372032,Chopin-wsrod-huku-bombardowania-Ostatni-dzien-nadawania-Polskiego-Radia-we-wrzesniu-1939 (last accessed on 8/1/2025).
[7] Szpilman, Władysław: The Pianist. The Extraordinary Story […], London 2000, p. 40 f.
[8] In October 1939, Warsaw was home to nearly 360,000 Jews; from Ruta Sakowska: Ludzie z dzielnicy zamkniętej [People from the Closed City Quarter], PWN, Warsaw 1993, p. 29.
[9] Szpilman, Władysław: The Pianist. The Extraordinary Story […], London 2000, p. 58 f.