Unfortunately, the WT was kinda right when it said this:
If the child has any help from the unseen world (and he probably has), that help comes from the demons. Quite probably in the same category is the prodigy mentioned in the NEW YORK TIMES of November 26,1931.
In Ruth's case, the 'demon' was actually her own father, an abusive stage-parent:
From http://articles.philly.com/2007-08-12/entertainment/25230855_1_serkin-concert-japan-s-nhk-symphony
What's amazing is that her storehouse seems to contain little of the bad stuff that came her way. From an early age, the Sacramento-born Slenczynska was made to practice nine hours a day. Her violinist father, Josef, a Polish emigrĀ, was bent on her having a music career from day one; he beat her mercilessly for keyboard mistakes - and even for bad reviews, over which she had no control.
But few musicians had such great teachers. Spending most of her childhood on the East Coast and in Europe, she was at one point simultaneously studying with Cortot and Rachmaninoff in Paris, though neither knew she was working with the other, nor would they have been happy if they'd found out.
"The whole situation was comic," she wrote in her 1957 autobiography Forbidden Childhood (Doubleday & Co.). "Here was Father telling the world that he was my only teacher. Here was Mr. Cortot proudly calling himself my teacher. Here was Mr. Rachmaninoff denying that he was teaching me. My visits were social calls. . . ."
Though audiences were amazed that someone so small could play the big concertos of Liszt and Chopin (in Berlin, the press speculated that she was a midget), her father's orders to go to interpretive extremes destroyed her credibility with critics.
Back in California in 1940, her career seemingly ended, she enrolled at the University of California at Berkeley, where she eventually earned a degree in psychology. That sector of the real world felt pretty alien: "I was 16, felt 50 and looked like 12."
In 1944, she eloped with fellow student George Born, trailed by her father's parting shot: "You can't play two notes again without me."
"As far as he was concerned, I didn't exist," she recalled.
What she discovered, simply, was "I could exist."
Adam