Glenn Winters on his teacher Jorge Bolet

I've just come across this substack article by a former student of Jorge. I've included a a couple of excerpts here but this is the link to the source.

Five Years With A Legendary Musician

The greatness - and oddness - of an immortal pianist

Glenn Winters

January 16, 2026

He was not a warm teddy bear

As a skinny excited freshman piano major at Indiana, I was gobsmacked and totally star-struck to be accepted into Bolet’s studio. I knew all about him - we had a copy of the Song Without End album at home

My intimidation didn’t stem from his reputation and star status alone; it was also his physical presence and aura.

He was a giant; easily 6’5” and muscular. He looked more like a right tackle for the Chicago Bears than a classical musician. And his bearing was dignified; serious; imposing. He was not a warm teddy bear.

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He was most at home, most himself, when seated at the piano, making music.

Here’s an example.

One day, probably the last year of my Master’s degree, I reported to his studio as usual for my regular weekly lesson. All prepared, feeling confident, ready to play and be taught.

Bolet was at the piano, flipping through the pages of a lengthy book of piano music. He held it up for me to inspect. The title: Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Telemann, by the German Romantic composer Max Reger.

“Do you know this piece”? I didn’t. He probably knew that I didn’t. Reger’s Telemann Variations are a pretty obscure piece by a composer not well known for piano music.

Bolet explained that he was learning it for recitals and a recording project. He opened the music to the first page and said “Isn’t this a great theme for a set of variations/” And he launched into playing it, a stately minuet from the Baroque era, a couple of minutes long.

Before I could agree with him, he turned the page. “And my god, this first variation is wonderful!”. And he played it for me.

Then something happened

It was as if he forgot where he was, who I was, what we were doing, what we were supposed to be doing. He got into the spirit of this piece he was “learning” and kept playing - flipping pages, variation after variation.

I was rooted to my spot on the floor. That particular piece by Reger is over 30 minutes in length, longer if you take all the repeats. It calls for thundering octaves, will-o’-the-wisp finger dexterity, intimate passages of heartbreaking lyricism - it’s like an encyclopedia of piano technique, exploring the limits of the instrument.

It was a private concert for an audience of one. Bolet did not hold back, it was a performance for the ages. As he met the challenges of strength and stamina, he turned red in the face. When he finally completed the triumphant final chords, he was breathing heavily, perspiring, exhilarated.

I don’t think I played anything that day. I didn’t care.

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THE LAST TIME I SAW HIM.

In 1987, three years before his death in 1990, Jorge Bolet appeared with the Virginia Symphony orchestra it was in the mid-1980s, a few years before his passing in 1990. The program included the 2nd Liszt piano concerto and Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy, a fun piece involving a big solo piano part, full orchestra, a quartet of vocal soloists and a large chorus.

The chorus was being provided by Christopher Newport College, where I happened to be teaching at the time. I thought it would be fun to participate, so I volunteered to join the bass section and bellow away while Bolet raised the roof at the keyboard.

The first half of the program ended with the Liszt. During intermission, while in the lower level of the concert hall where there were dressing rooms, I heard a piano. Someone had put an upright piano in the hallway. Bolet was furiously playing the Beethoven with the score in front of him. “I haven’t played this in years”, he muttered.

He was re-learning the piece on the spot. During intermission.

Are you shocked? Do you find that unprofessional? You don’t get it.

Bolet was a musician of gifts that you have likely never encountered. He seldom practiced at a piano, my friends. He could learn music silently, score in hand. And then play it.

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In the comments, someone mentions Tex Compton, and Glenn Winters replies:

"Ah, Tex: he was Truman Capote before the actual Truman Capote"