Jerry Sorell is 90 years old and never lost his love for the violin, not even when Germany invaded Vienna and forced his family to flee in 1938. He's still fiddling today, celebrating life through music.
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Jerry Sorell rises from the dining room table at his home in North Caldwell, where this story begins over coffee and bagels.
It's the third time he's gotten up to reveal pieces of his past. The first trip was to his office, where the 90-year-old retired chemical engineer does consultant work, studying air pollution control systems for oil refineries. The second trek was to the laundry room - to show off tennis trophies he's won from playing three times a week.
Spry doesn't begin to describe Sorell. These days, on any given weekend, Sorell could be at a Springsteen concert with his son-in-law or enjoying the opera with his wife, Susie, to whom he's been married 64 years. She's 89 and the light in eyes.
But the narrative about this Princeton University man, who graduated Phi Beta Kappa in 1950 after serving in World War II, only gets better.
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"I want to show you something,'' Sorell said.
He disappears into the living room this time, returning with a picture of a 13-year-old boy playing the violin as his mother looks on.
"I was, sort of, on a path to become a professional musician, but the whole thing fell apart,'' Sorell said.
Sorell was 12 when Germany invaded Vienna in 1938, forcing his family to flee the country. But that never stifled Sorell's love for classical music.
Ladies and gentlemen - Jerry Sorell is "Still Fiddling at 90," just as the program for his most recent concert declared.
These concerts began 10 years ago because some tennis buddies didn't believe he could play the violin. "I said 'I'll show you guys,' '' he recalled.
With good friend and neighbor Arnold Chait playing the piano, the gifted gentlemen take the floor under their stage name, "The Arthritic Duo.''
Don't let the title fool you. There's nothing stiff about this talented tandem. This past Sunday, they took about 70 family and friends on a musical journey from Bach to Joplin.
Eli Curi, one of those tennis pals, said Sorell is better than he was at the start of the concerts."The dexterity of his hands at this age ... I'm able to see the extraordinary skill that he still possesses,'' said Curi, a retired vascular surgeon who lives in Essex Fells.
Sorell arranges this show every five years at the Montclair home of Mark and Deborah Stehr - his son-in-law and daughter - to celebrate his birthday, which was in April. This performance included daughter Tamara Sorell, who played the piano, and granddaughters Jocelyn and Carly Steinfeld, who sang soprano.
Sorell entertains, joking with the crowd between numbers, summarizing each piece he devours with intensity.He taps his foot to keep time, his eyes are fixed on the notes, his violin bow glides up, down, across and through songs that he and Chait have practiced for weeks.
When they insert the theme from "Schindler's List,'' the song becomes personal for Sorell. It's a tribute to his two grandmothers, who died at Auschwitz.
Listen closely.
The chords he plays could easily be chapters of a memoir of the life Sorell has lived. There's so much that Mark Stehr has organized and indexed what is essentially history.
Some of the record is captured in about 400 World War II letters that Sorell wrote to his parents. Because of his fluency in German, the then-19-year-old was assigned to the Counter Intelligence Corps to interrogate prisoners of war and Nazi officials.
"Few will stand up like men to admit their guilt,'' Sorell wrote on May 31, 1945. "The rest are cringing, obsequious cowards.''
There is irony in that writing. Just a few years earlier, Sorell's family had fled the anti-Semitism flooding their homeland.
Sorell was born Gerhard Eisenstein and was 9 years old when he began playing the violin with his father, Jose Lampl. Though his father, an amateur violinist, would die within a couple of years, the youngster continued his studies at the Vienna Conservatory.
His mother, Gertrude Eisenstein, remarried in 1938 when she met Walter Sorell and that same year, they left Austria. The family landed in Luxembourg and then moved on to London. Sorell adopted Gerhard in 1939.
As Hitler's troops advanced across Europe, Sorell said the family was able to board one of the convoy passenger boats bound for the United States. A week after leaving London, the Sorell family arrived in New York City on Thanksgiving Day in 1939.
Sorell resumed playing the violin in high school, where he was among young composers interviewed by The New York Times for having written original music that was selected for an annual concert.
Stehr pulls out a copy of the story while we're talking at the dinning room table. Though Sorell tries to shoo him away, Stehr explains that Sorell is his "personal hero'' and encourages his father-in-law to talk about his life.
"Hitler, as you know, was well on his way to eradicating the Jews, so the idea of wanting to get back and fight that son of bitch was something I wanted to do,'' Sorell said.
After he graduated high school, Sorell was drafted and shipped to Europe, where he was assigned to a heavy weapons company - 394th Regiment, 99th Infantry Division. Between digging foxholes and battle campaigns, Sorell discovered a violin in a house in Germany.
"I liberated it,'' he said.
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Sorrell kept that violin and played it during down time. It stayed with him after he was discharged and while he was at college, where he became the concerto master - the lead violinist - of the Princeton University Orchestra.
After Princeton, the violin was stolen and Sorell bought another that he'd play during his chemical engineering career of nearly 30 years. He worked for M.W. Kellog Co. and Esso Research & Engineering Co, which is now Exxon.
Sorrell doesn't dwell on the past often, but that is what's so fascinating about him.
In a folder, there are report cards from elementary school in Vienna. His thesis from Princeton graduate school is neatly typed, with some of it written in beautiful cursive penmanship. He also has an autographed picture of Albert Einstein, who signed the photograph for him when they met at Princeton.
The concert is just about over. "Schindler's List," just like all of the music he's played, receives stirring applause before Sorell brings the show home in true fiddler fashion.
His guests are clapping and tapping their feet to popular American-Irish fiddle tunes that Sorell plays with controlled, frenetic speed.
Not bad for a cancer survivor.That's something else you didn't know.
Keep on playing, my friend. See you in five years.
Barry Carter: (973) 836-4925 or bcarter@starledger.com or nj.com/carter or follow him on Twitter @BarryCarterSL