The secret life of the page-turner

Pippa Cuckson turns a spotlight onto the discreet world of this rarely noticed musician, whose quick thinking can save a concert

- Pippa Cuckson

GEORGES ENESCU, the celebrated composer violinist, once reluctantly agreed to teach a friend’s hopelessly untalented son and was, therefore, dismayed when the father insisted the son give a public concert in Paris. No one bought tickets until Enescu was cajoled into accompanying the boy on the piano. On the night, Enescu asked for someone to turn his pages, no doubt craving moral support; piano virtuoso Alfred Cortot was in the audience and nobly volunteered.

Le Figaro reported: ‘There was a strange concert at the Salle Gaveau last night. The man whom we adore when he plays the violin played the piano. Another whom we adore when he plays the piano turned the pages. But the man who should have turned the pages played the violin.’

I’ve always enjoyed this yarn, apart from the fact it unkindly maligns the skill of the black-clad incognito sitting beside the pianist. Page-turners would not presume to suggest they ‘make’ the performance, but we have a huge responsibility not to ‘break’ it. I have belonged to this unsung, voluntary band for 35 years.

My foray into page-turning began at a masterclass at Morley College given by distinguished pianist Kathron Sturrock. I’m a fairly good sight-reader, so, one day, Kathron asked if I might turn for her at St Olav’s in the City. Fortunately, she omitted to say that even professional musicians and conservatoire students find the prospect terrifying. Unhampered by scare stories, I simply got on with it and found a knack.

Kathron began recommending me to colleagues. The Royal Festival Hall was a short walk from my work, at COUNTRY LIFE’s sister magazine Horse & Hound in SE1, so soon I was regularly jogging down the road to service lunchtime recitals and then north of the river, to the Wigmore Hall and Broadcasting House.