Oberon's Grove: Valentine's Day ~ 1970

Above: Act II setting in the Nathaniel Merrill/Robert O'Hearn production of DER ROSENKAVALIER, a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

On Valentine's Day, 1970, I saw Strauss's DER ROSENKAVALIER for the first time. No more meaningful date in the calendar could be imagined for my first live encounter with this, one of the greatest stories of love in the lyric literature.

At that time, having grown out of my unhappy teens, I already knew my destiny but had not yet found the inner strength to embrace it. I was floundering emotionally, but everything about the world sang to me of romance. I was heading for an exciting and tumultuous life, promiscuous and impulsive, in which the search for love would lead me down paths of foolish adventures and broken hearts. In the end, like so many romantics, I settled for something solid and domestically reassuring, but lacking in passion. Passion for me now is all in the music.

Be that as it may, in 1970 all his lay before me. On that February night, I was seated in the front row of The Met's Orchestra section, directly behind the left shoulder of the one and only Karl Böhm. It was from that vantage point that I witnessed an unforgettable moment: the Milliner in this production arrives at the Marschallin's levée with two small dogs. Whilst Walter Berry, as Baron Ochs, was negotiating his marriage contract with the notary, the dogs scampered down to the footlights and one mounted the other. The audience burst into laughter, and Maestro Böhm called up to Mr. Berry: "Surely, we're in Vienna!"

It took a few moments for order to be restored, but by the time the Marschallin, sung by Marion Lippert (above) began her monolog, all was as it should be. Lippert, who I also saw as Elisabetta in DON CARLO, was a lovely artist and both her singing and her portrayal of the Princess von Werdenberg were very moving.

Walter Berry (above) was a marvelous singing-actor, and though I later came to realize that there were deep notes in Ochs' music that could have been fuller, I really enjoyed his performance. George Shirley sang the Italian Tenor's aria stylishly, and Mildred Miller and Andrea Velis were just perfect as the intriguers Annina and Valzacchi. Rudolf Knoll was the fussy, vocally apt Faninal.

Reri Grist (above) was the most delicious Sophie imaginable. Her sweet, silvery voice sailed clearly out into the big hall, making a perfect impression in the Rose Presentation scene, and simply radiant in the final trio and duet. She was pretty as a picture, too.

Of all my memories of my first ROSENKAVALIER, the dearest and deepest is of the appearance of Octavian, in the person of Christa Ludwig, at maison Faninal, holding on high the silver rose in her right hand. Now, fifty years on, that is the single most iconic image from my opera-going career. I not only lost my heart to Ms. Ludwig that night, but to opera itself.