It’s been 50 years since TX pianist Harvey Lavan "Van" Cliburn Jr. became an overnight sensation after winning the first International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition in Moscow in 1958 at the age of 23. Recently, The New York Times interviewed the classical music superstar about that heady time, and his life and work since:

 

[T]he Russian people still adore Van Cliburn. That was the message conveyed by Aleksandr S. Sokolov, the Russian minister of culture, and Yuri V. Ushakov, the Russian ambassador to the United States, during toasts at a black-tie dinner and musical tribute commemorat[ing] the 50th anniversary of Mr. Cliburn’s victory.

 

[T]his had to have been a bittersweet evening for Mr. Cliburn, who for nearly 30 years has largely been missing from the classical music field that he electrified during his glory days. …

 

For a good dozen years he was the best known and most popular classical musician in the world. His recordings routinely sold in the hundreds of thousands. His success was hard won and much deserved. But over time the expectations that this cultural emissary and musical superstar faced were impossible to fulfill. His playing declined. …

 

Reflecting on his current life during a visit to New York in January he seemed wistful but at peace. “I do play concerts from time to time,” he said. “I work at home quietly, go to the opera, hear concerts, see friends. I like making up now for what I was not able to have then. And I still have to practice.”

 

It is impossible to overstate the impact of Mr. Cliburn’s victory at the Tchaikovsky competition and its lingering effects today. …

 

Recalling the competition during the interview in New York, Mr. Cliburn said that at the time he was oblivious to the political ramifications of his triumph.

 

“Oh, I never thought about all that,” he said. “I was just so involved with the sweet and friendly people who were so passionate about music. They reminded me of Texans.”

 

To Americans demoralized by the cold war, Mr. Cliburn’s triumph offered vindication. One of our boys, an apple-pie Texan, went to Moscow and beat the Commies fair and square at their own game, playing concertos by Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, no less.

 

Arriving back in New York, he was honored with a ticker-tape parade from the Battery to City Hall … [A] reporter commented to the young hero that he must think of himself now as a big success. He answered, “I’m not a success, I’m a sensation.”