~ Author: Oberon
The continuing story of my experiences attending performances at the Old Met as a very avid young opera-lover. (Here is a link to Part I.)
In January 1965, I was the proverbial small-town boy, sixteen years old; I took the train alone (for the first time) from Syracuse to Harrison NY. There, a man who had grown up in my hometown, and who had worked for my father at the drug store, was now teaching music at a high school. He knew that I'd become fascinated with opera, so he arranged with my parents that I should make the trip.
Being a Metropolitan Opera subscriber, he had passes to a dress rehearsal of The Met's Alfred Lunt/Rolf Gerard English-language production of Mozart's COSI FAN TUTTE. Following that, we would have dinner and then go to a performance of the Cecil Beaton production of TURANDOT in the evening.
The excursion marked the first time I traveled anywhere on my own, and the first time I slept in a bed with an adult male. Part of me wanted desperately to be seduced, but nothing happened in that department; I hardly slept though...the situation was so provocative.
On that Thursday morning, he made breakfast and then we drove into the City. The COSI dress rehearsal had quite a large audience. I can't remember where we sat, nor why we didn't go to the stage door afterwards.
The COSI revival had what amounted to an all-star (and all-American) cast. Aside from Donald Gramm, who was replacing Frank Guarrera as Don Alfonso, all these voices were familiar to me from the Texaco Saturday matinee radio broadcasts.
At that time, Leontyne Price (above, in her COSI costume) was already the toast of New York, although her fame would increase exponentially in the years ahead. Fiordiligi was one of three Mozart roles Ms. Price sang at The Met (Donna Anna, plus two Paminas in English being the others.) She sounded lustrous in Fiordiligi's music, and sang the florid passages of the role smoothly. Her high notes had a lovely bloom.
Leontyne Price - Mozart ~ Alleluia
Richard Tucker (above) was one of the greatest tenors in the history of The Met; this was the first of many Met performances by this most generous of singers that I greatly enjoyed. Like Leontyne Price, Tucker was not thought of as a Mozartean. But he sang beautifully, especially in the aria "Un aura amoroso" (I don't recall the English words used). Tucker was also a very good comic actor. I can't find any Mozart excerpts by Mr. Tucker (he also sang Tamino, and would have been a wonderful Idomeneo or Tito) but here's something (very non-Mozartean) that shows off his English-language diction.
Richard Tucker - aria from THE LAND OF SMILES ~ in English - 1954 live!
Roberta Peters (above) was a scintillating, well-loved coloratura, famous for her Gilda and Queen of the Night. As Despina, she was a lively actress, and added sparkle to the ensembles. Here's she is in bel canto mode:
Roberta Peters - Spargi d'amaro pianto - LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR
Rosalind Elias (above, as Dorabella) - she of the gorgeous face and figure - had a lush voice that was once described as "high-caloric". She looked terrifically buxom in her costumes, was a brilliant actress, and sang superbly. Here's a sampling of Roz's Mozart singing:
Rosalind Elias - Cherubino's arias - NOZZE - Met bcast 1976
Theodor Uppman (above), the popular young lyric baritone, was a beloved Papageno and Masetto at that time...and he had already sung Pelléas opposite Victoria de los Angeles. He sang stylishly as Guglielmo, and was a key player in the comedy.
Theodor Uppman as Masetto in DON GIOVANNI
Donald Gramm (above) - then a rising American singer - became better-known over time for his song repertoire, though years later I did catch him onstage as Leporello (at both The Met and New York City Opera), and as Oroveso in NORMA in Boston (a performance wherein he interpolated an aria Wagner had composed for his character.) At this dress rehearsal, Gramm excelled as the crafty Don Alfonso, and his diction was especially clear.
We must have had dinner someplace nearby before going to the evening performance of TURANDOT; I can't remember where. But I do remember that TURANDOT was far more exciting for me than COSI had been.
The Cecil Beaton production (Act II set, above) had brought Birgit Nilsson's triumphantly-sung Turandot to New York City. Nilsson sang it at The Met, and then took it on tour. Mary Curtis-Verna was the first soprano to appear as Turandot in the production, other than Nilsson. As we sat waiting for the performance to begin, around me I heard people expressing the notion that Ms. Curtis-Verna and her tenor, Jess Thomas, were unlikely to come within hailing distance of the Nilsson/Corelli team. Of course, I had heard Birgit and Franco on two Saturday broadcasts of the opera; secretly, thrilling as they were, I was kind of glad to be hearing different singers in this music. Variety is the spice of operatic life, after all.
And how different, indeed! Instead of Nilsson's silvery trumpet of a voice, in Ms. Curtis-Verna (above) we had a warm, very Italianate-sounding soprano of ample power, with a beautiful stage presence. What I remember most about her performance was the perfectly projected, sustained high B-flat with which she ended the evening.
Here is the soprano is a pair of classic arias from the spinto repertoire:
Mary Curtis-Verna - Vissi d'arte ~ TOSCA
Mary Curtis-Verna - La mamma morta ~ ANDREA CHENIER
Above: the original Cecil Beaton costume for Turandot, now in the archives of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, where the production originated.
I quite naturally assumed that I would be hearing Mary Curtis-Verna at The New Met the following season, but - after singing the Triumphal Scene from AIDA at the closing night gala at the Old Met - she never appeared with the Company again.
Jess Thomas (above) was the Calaf that night. He looked striking in the Unknown Prince's black costume and fur hat. Though his was not at all an Italianate sound, Thomas had power and to spare; he made a strong impression both physically and vocally. In September of 1966, he was the tenor lead in the opening night performance at the New Met, as Julius Caesar in Samuel Barber's ANTONY & CLEOPATRA.
Best-known for his Wagner roles, Jess Thomas would later be my first Tristan and Siegfried. Here he is in an impressive excerpt from his more usual repertoire, Siegmund's Sword Monolog:
Jess Thomas - WALKURE ~ Sword Monolog
Lucine Amara (above, as Aida) stole the show vocally; her Liu was movingly sung, with some finely-spun pianissimi. Having heard her on the broadcasts, I thought she was an excellent singer - and I continued to think that, even after I discovered that her reputation was that of a 'house singer', devoid of vocal glamour. To me, her Nedda, Antonia in HOFFMANN, Donna Elvira, Mimi, Butterfly, Ellen Orford, and Aida were all perfectly pleasing, and whenever, in future seasons, I was at a performance where she stepped in for a more celebrated soprano, I didn't mind in the least.
Lucine Amara - Requiem aeternam ~ Verdi REQUIEM
Lucine Amara - FORZA DEL DESTINO aria - Met 1975
Making a tremendous impression as the blind King Timur was Bonaldo Giaiotti (above). Already, from having heard him on the Saturday broadcasts, he was among my favorite singers; and in fact, over the years, no other basso could dislodge Giaiotti from the pedestal I'd placed him on. It was a voice filled with humanity.
Bonaldo Giaiotti as Timur in Puccini's TURANDOT
At this point in my opera-loving career, I had not yet become intrigued with the music Puccini assigned to the three ministers: Ping, Pang, and Pong. Their atmospheric scene prior to the Riddle Contest is now one of my favorite parts of the score. On this evening that scene was robustly sung by Calvin Marsh, Charles Anthony, and Robert Nagy. Robert Goodloe was a fine Mandarin, and the great Italian character tenor Mariano Caruso was the venerable Emperor Altoum.
Fausto Cleva (above), the Met's go-to conductor for the Italian repertoire, wielded the baton. He seemed pleased as punch at the curtain calls: a man small of frame, with a shock of white hair, he had an old-world elegance in his white tie and tails.
We went backstage, and stood in a long queue to meet the two sopranos; I realized that several men on that line were looking at me - not that I was anything special to look at, but youth in and of itself is a great asset in the gay world...as I came to discover.
Mary Curtis-Verna and Lucine Amara signed my program. I don't know why we didn't visit any of the male singers; maybe my host was thinking of the long drive home. Between the excitement of the opera and having this long-legged man next to me in bed, I did not sleep much. I was beginning to think longingly of what it would be like to give in to my desire; it was to be another eight years before I found out.
There was one more trip to the Old Met to come: in November of 1965 I attended four consecutive performances in the dilapidated - but undoubtedly still grand - old theater. For now, though, it was back to the little town...but at least I knew for sure where life would be taking me.
For Part III, go here.
~ Oberon