One of my appearances at the famous old 'Museums-Gesellschaft' of Frankfurt-am-Main, where I played Bartók’s First Rhapsody for violin and orchestra, occurred on the evening of one of Hitler’s election rallies- in the huge Frankfurt Sportpalast, I think. I remember my amused and scornful comments on the fact that on that particular night the traditionally completely filled Museums Konzert showed unwonted empty rows of seats because of this “counterattraction,” as I disdainfully called it. And I remember too the half-imploring, half-reproachful look and gesture of the young woman to whom I was talking in this vein, and how she tried to put a stop to my “irreverence” by a sort of apologia for Hitler. It was at this concert, in the midst of the applause that greeted the Bartók work, that a shrill whistle pierced the air. Apparently it came from the gallery, and instinctively I looked up as if searching for the lone demonstrator- a most irrational gesture, by the way. But I followed it with a more rational one: lifting the violin to my chin I struck the exact “double” of the whistled note and “whistled” it back at him with my harmonic; this repartee evoked an outburst of applause which- as often happens in such cases- even surpassed the initial salvos. << less