The program was:
It was a sticky, 95-degree July day in 1953, long before there was air-conditioning in homes. My only suit was winter-weight wool.
The day before the concert, I had fallen asleep for several hours in a canoe in the middle of a lake and was very sunburned. You can imagine what the rough wool trousers and the starched white collar felt like against my red-hot skin, which incidentally was destined to start peeling off in sheets a week later as I lay in traction in a hospital bed, having fallen in the bathtub and broken my neck. (It was an eventful time, what can I say?)
During a thundering double-octave passage in the Liszt, the skin under both thumbnails split open, and by the end of the program the keyboard was covered with blood. Well, I was especially good at thundering, and it was Romantic music, after all!
Isn't that what youth is for?!