THE VIOLINIST'S LIFE IN HIS OWN WORDS Preface As I am looking out through my living room window within oblique sight of the Hudson River in mid-Manhattan, New York, a man passes by across the street. It seems to me that I have sighted this Unknown Man many times before, but never took particular notice of him. By now it occurs to my mind that this person might perhaps be one who is ailing from some sort of organic disease. In fact, thinking hard, I recollect that on many wintry days in the past years when the wind would blow at a strong rate, as it often did on our street, this U. M. could be seen taking refuge at such times every few houses. This he did by hiding behind abutments projecting at angles from each other on the brownstone houses across the street. In this manner he found some temporary protection. Then again, I thought of when he would walk uphill towards Broadway. After passing a few houses, he would stop for a few moments; it seemed to sort of catch his breath. As if to hide embarrassment, he would look about or at something in particular, and thereafter proceed farther on at a slower pace. In fact, I saw him once take out, from a vial, what might have been a pill in a most urgent manner, thereby seeming to relieve the cause of the agonized expression I had seen upon his face. I also came to the conclusion that this U. M. had often passed by my view in the last few years but that being otherwise occupied I had not paid attention to him. It dawned on me that in those recent days of the past, it had been the time of the Second World War and that the constant many unpleasant, disheartening happenings and matters connected with the war effort were sufficient to cause worry. Altogether a painful period! The events of the wartime tended to distract one’s attention from appraising most ordinary observations. Now the idea of what might have been the background and life story of this U. M. began to be of some interest to me, to the point of virtually haunting me. It came to pass one night that the following tale played out before me as if through a crystal ball or vision, a sort of waking dream, while I slept. This is the life history of the U. M. related and unfolded before me. J. S.