TOSCA – PUCCINI
Presented on Jun 8, 11, 14, 17 at the Gaiety Theatre Dublin as part of Dublin Grand Opera Society’s Spring Season
Luciana Serafina / Marina Cucchio[Jun 8] – Tosca
Giuseppe di Stefano – Cavaradossi
Gian Giacomo Guelfi – Scarpia
Loris Gambelli – Angelotti
Guido Pasella – Sacristan
Ernesto Vezzosi – Sciarrone
Edwin Fitzgibbon – Spoletta
Napoleone Annovazzi – Conductor
Carlo Acly Azzolini – Producer
Listen to this production here:
They refurbished the Gaiety’s No 1 dressing room for his arrival. He and his entourage were booked into three suites in the Royal Hibernian Hotel for the duration of his stay in that June of 1963; while the DGOS itself dug deep into its meagre resources to ensure that Giuseppe di Stefano, celebrity, recording star and longtime La Scala partner for Maria Callas would be able to fulfil the engagement. His fee of £1,500 a performance was creating a society record but Colonel O’Kelly and his management committee reckoned it was worth the risks involved. Anyway, Dubliners loved film, theatrical and opera stars and in the latter category few equalled Signor di Stefano. His extrovert personality, handsome appearance and his liking for cigars, gambling and champagne lent him a more worldly dimension than most of the famous artists of the day. At the age of forty-two his diary was pretty full and his engagements in the following months included “Tosca”, to be recorded in Vienna for Decca with Leontyne Price and Giuseppe Taddei with Herbert von Karajan conducting; it was the opera he was to sing in Dublin. That he was bringing his Rolls Royce along with him invested his visit with that extra touch of glamour. Every other production that spring season appeared to be dwarfed by “Tosca”, for Scarpia would be portrayed by Gian Giacomo Guelfi, so the prospect of hearing two great voices in the same opera lengthened the ticket queues in South King Street. The popularity of Italian opera had reached its zenith and fans could look forward also to Cappuccilli as Rigoletto, Dino Dondi in the title role of “Macbeth” and Margherita Rinaldi in “La Sonnambula”. Understandably, the newspapers concentrated on di Stefano’s life and career as well as his stage and recording partnership with Callas. There is little doubt that his rise to fame was meteoric. Born in Motto Sant Anastasia, a village in the Sicilian provinces, in 1921, his entry to La Scala was amazingly rapid, in fact just a year after he had made his debut at the Teatro Municipale in Reggio Emilia in April 1946. His smooth and liquid tenor voice made him an instant favourite in lighter lyric roles, and when he sang Elvino (“La Sonnambula”) and Des Grieux (“Manon”) at the Rome Opera he was immediately hailed in the same breath as Tito Schipa. Although he was no actor, his graceful stage style, good looks and exquisite phrasing made him almost unrivalled in his sphere. It was his link-up with Callas, however, that lent him celebrity status. They first sang together in “La Traviata” and shortly afterwards in Mexico in “I Puritani”. It was on his own admission a unique experience. ‘She gave the same passion as a man could,’ he recalled. ‘What was astonishing to me was the coloratura in “Puritani”. I had never heard it sung like that before.’ Callas, for her part, made no secret of her admiration for the singer and that she wanted him to record with her. Their voices blended beautifully, especially in the recording of “Puritani”, but there were inevitable clashes of temperament and Irish newspapers featured them from time to time. One such was the occasion in 1955 when di Stefano walked out of rehearsals of “Traviata” and Callas, angered by his behaviour, accused the tenor of lack of respect for her. ‘I was having trouble with pitch,’ was his weak excuse. Dublin’s opera fans accepted the Callas – di Stefano outbursts as simply a part of the world operatic scenario and were concerned only with hearing the tenor in some of Puccini’s most mellifluous music. ‘His coming was creating both curiosity and excitement among us all in the chorus,’ says Mary Troy. ‘I could hardly believe I would be sharing the same stage with him. I didn’t care what anyone said about him, I just loved his voice. He was fabulous and everyone seemed to know him by his records.’ ‘I do agree that everyone was a bit excited about him,’ recalls Joan Rooney. ‘I could hear others in the chorus talk about his records and everyone wondered if his voice would be the same. His name was magic; I mean baritones can be great and Silveri, Guelfi and Cappuccilli were certainly that but a star tenor is something else. I couldn’t wait to hear him sing.’ To Aileen Walsh he was the most glamorous singer to be engaged by the society. ‘We all had read about his La Scala appearances and the wonderful triumphs he enjoyed singing with Callas, so it was no surprise that he was the biggest talking point in our spring season.’ To Geraldine O’Grady, di Stefano was a handsome man with a particularly beautiful lyrical tenor voice. ‘I think he was born to sing bel canto and those sweet Tosti songs.’ Monica Condron said that since most people had not heard di Stefano sing in opera they were inclined to judge him solely by his records. She hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed. The male choristers were also curious about the tenor’s arrival. Tom and John Carney remember the subject being discussed and people asking whether the tenor was by now a little over the hill, this despite the fact that he was only forty-two. Dick Hanrahan had followed his career and played his records and reckoned the society had done very well to get a singer of his stature. ‘Frankly, I was baffled how they managed to get him to Dublin.’ To Jimmy Brittain, di Stefano’s was one of those natural and beautiful Italian tenor voices that could charm without effort. His Neapolitan songs were very appealing and he hoped that singing heavier roles would not darken and spread the voice. Norris Davidson recalled that Radio Eireann had received more enquiries than usual about the broadcasting date of the opera from the Gaiety. ‘I was surprised by the wide interest, especially from people who weren’t exactly opera-goers. I could only deduce that he had many admirers in Ireland and the DGOS did extremely well in engaging him for “Tosca”.’ Maureen Lemass, a patron member, admired di Stefano for his supreme artistry and style and looked forward very much to hearing him sing. Tony O’Dalaigh was no longer a super but his interest in opera if anything had increased and he usually joined the Gaiety queue to book hundreds of tickets for distribution to his friends. It was the pool system and it worked very well. For years he had been an avid admirer of di Stefano’s and regarded him as one of the really great tenors of his generation, although he believed that Cavaradossi was not his meat. He considered his voice more suited to the bel canto repertoire and “I Puritani”. But that would in no way keep him from the Gaiety. It was a typical June day when di Stefano and members of his entourage booked into their hotel. Some hours later reporters and photographers were waiting in the foyer for him and before long he agreed to talk to them. It was all very informal and he answered questions in an easy, casual manner. Yes, he had met Irish people in his travels, especially in America, and was taken by their gaiety and love of song. And he had long admired the art of John McCormack and the way he sang songs like ‘I Hear You Calling Me’ . When a young reporter quizzed the tenor about his temperament and occasional tantrums, he smiled and admitted he could be temperamental but ‘only for the sake of his art.’ Once, he said, he was due to sing arias at a function in Chicago attended by Queen Elizabeth of England but cut his programme short when he saw her sipping her coffee during his second song. ‘If she was drinking coffee, then she hadn’t enough interest in my songs or singing,’ he explained. There were rumours circulating around Dublin that he was being paid astronomical fees, but when he was quizzed again by the reporters he shook his head and said that it was a matter between his agent and the Dublin Grand Opera Society. As the cameras clicked, he made it plain there must be no photograph taken before his performance, neither in the Gaiety nor in his dressing room. Later that afternoon the tenor was due at the theatre and Paddy Brennan remembers he and other chorus members were waiting expectantly for his arrival. ‘We were standing over near the stage door when he arrived accompanied by his chauffeur. He was smoking a cigarette from a holder and his coat was thrown loosely over his shoulders in typical Italian style. Bill O’Kelly greeted him in a mixture of Italian and English and struggled to make himself clear. ‘I can still see di Stefano standing there nodding, obviously taking it all in as Bill tells him that all the tickets have been sold for the “Tosca” performances while people nearby are queuing for standing room only. To my surprise, di Stefano in the broadest of American accents says, ‘I hope they enjoy the show’. A frequent visitor to the Gaiety in those days was the tall, white-bearded Noel Purcell, film actor and variety star. Soon he was complaining he could not get a ticket for “Tosca”, one of his favourite operas. When Bill O’Kelly heard about Noel’s dilemma he suggested that the only way he could see the performance was to be actually part of it. ‘You’re going to play the Cardinal,’ he said to him one evening in the Gaiety green room. ‘I can’t think of anybody better qualified.’ The jovial Purcell shook his head and with his long arm on O’Kelly’s shoulder, replied, ‘If you say so, Colonel. Come to that, I don’t think I’d make a bad Pope either!’ Some people in the Gaiety queue dashed forward when they spotted di Stefano that afternoon and sought his autograph. He obliged a few of them before he was led away to his dressing room, which was fitted with new plush red carpets and printed linen covers on the furnishings. Bill O’Kelly was beaming, for not only was the tenor’s visit a great prestige boost for the society but record box-office receipts were guaranteed, amounting in all to £1,170 on the first night but since the tenor was receiving the princely sum of £6,000 for his performances every penny at the box office was needed. He remained a big talking point, especially his gleaming Rolls Royce that was attracting a lot of attention in Dawson Street.
On Saturday evening, June 8, people gathered in South King Street to watch the opera buffs arrive for opening night. It was a distinguished gathering of diplomats, public representatives, and patron members – many of them elegantly dressed – and rank and file opera lovers. The foyer was crowded, an animated scene as people tried to be heard above the chatter. Everywhere there was an unmistakable buzz; the society had come a long way from the poorly attended “Tosca” in the forties. Dr Larchet, Prince Caracciolo and John F MacInerney were in the foyer to greet special guests and Dr Dermot O’Kelly and the other stewards were in the ‘house’ ensuring everyone found their seats. It was one of those evenings when the occasion seemed bigger than the opera itself. It was the people’s opera, though, and class was forgotten as the moment drew near for curtain rise. As a young journalist I had been fortunate to get a single ticket in the parterre and like everyone else was impatient for the opera to begin. And when it did, and Giuseppe di Stefano sang his first big aria in the Church of San Andrea Della Valle, Rome, we were listening to a familiar voice, one totally recognisable from his records, at once eloquent, silver-toned and effortless. Although it had darkened from his young days, the beauty of tone was still there as well as his subtle artistry. Di Stefano gives the impression that he has walked straight from his Rolls Royce to sing the part, such is his casual air. But of course it is deceptive for it tends to conceal his consummate artistry. Later on the powerful voice of Gian Giacomo Guelfi, allied to frightening dramatic intensity, dominates the opera, though di Stefano emerges in the final act to send the house into raptures with his beautifully sung ‘E lucevan le stelle.’ And the typical di Stefano voice, caressing and seductive , is heard in his lovely duet (‘O dolci mani’) with soprano Marina Cucchio. When the curtain finally comes down the applause is resounding and prolonged, as though the full ‘house’ wants to vent its pent up feelings. The principals take their bow again and again as Maestro Annovazzi and the RESO stay in their places. Colonel O’Kelly is as always somewhere back stage, no doubt proud of one of the greatest occasions in the society’s history. It didn’t seem to matter at that moment that soprano Signora Cucchio wasn’t quite on the same level as di Stefano and Guelfi. The vast majority of those present had after all come to hear the tenor and at least those around me seemed satisfied enough, although one sturdy Kerryman thought he was ‘much better on record’. The debate would undoubtedly go on and it was all part of the vibrant operatic scene of the time. ‘It was a magical night,’ recalled chorus member Mary Troy. ‘Di Stefano’s voice came up to all my expectations. He made Guelfi sing his heart out.’ To Joan Rooney, the tenor used his voice exceptionally well and was supremely well cast as Cavaradossi. ‘I thought he was terrific,’ remarked Torn Carney. ‘His voice was polished and his soft singing and phrasing remarkable. His coming was a landmark for the society. He was a superstar. ‘ In Aileen Walsh’s view, people came to hear his golden voice and most of them were not disappointed, though some felt his voice had gone off a little.’ For Donnie Potter it was a peculiar occasion. He was at the time ill in hospital and was actually allowed out for the evening to see the performance. ‘I was invited into Mrs Sean Lemass’s box and so had a good view from there. Although di Stefano was a big star when he came to Dublin, I felt on the night he was overshadowed by Guelfi’s Scarpia. For all that, it was a memorable occasion for all of us in the society. Ticket prices had been increased but no one complained -they got more than their money’s worth. To Dympna Carney, di Stefano seemed unassuming and got through his work like the professional he was. It was the entourage around him which was treating him like a god. He was the star and a beautiful singer and people remember his Gaiety performance to this day. Nonetheless, it was Guelfi who stole the show with his compelling Scarpia. Mary Sheridan recalls that she felt the excitement in the theatre on the occasion. It was in the air and one knew that star singers were on stage. Florrie Draper had helped to recruit supers for the opera and says she had no trouble whatsoever. ‘Everyone wanted to be on stage with di Stefano. He was a dream performer but he could swear like a trooper and was always complaining about things going wrong. I remember he was adamant that no one should stand in the wings as he sang. He acted like the star he was. I enjoyed his singing performance, and so did my friends.’
Since the fifties members of the St Cecilia Gramophone Society in Dundalk regularly attended the DGOS seasons at the Gaiety, among them Frances O’Gorman who on her own admission, was ‘mad about music’. Usually the society hired special buses for the spring season and the road journey never once seemed long as they talked and argued about the merits and otherwise of their favourite singers. Most of them had programmes signed by the Italian guest stars. Giuseppe di Stefano had been Frances O’Gorman’s idol for years and she had collected most of his LPs and reckoned he was one of the most beautiful lyrical tenors in the history of opera. When it was announced he was to sing in Dublin there was, she remembered, a clamour for tickets and this extended to Dundalk. She did manage to book for two of his performances. ‘ I really hate to say this, but at the first one on June 11, I was terribly disappointed in him. There were only occasional flashes of what I had come to expect, and for most of the time he appeared to stroll through the performance as if he was sleepwalking. However, three nights later it was a different matter altogether. I had travelled from Dundalk with members of the Gramophone Circle and all of us were looking forward to the evening. Would I, I secretly wondered, have my dream shattered once more? I’m happy to say that such was not the case. In a word, he was simply marvellous as Cavaradossi. And to cap it all, I was invited with a few of my friends to visit him in his dressing room where he autographed my LPs and gave us signed photographs of himself. He told us also he had enjoyed playing on Irish golf courses.’ For a while afterwards Frances and her friends waited in the theatre foyer and eventually the tenor strode down the stairway, stopped several steps from the bottom and to everybody’s delight began to sing ‘Arrivederci Roma’. When he had finished singing, they cheered and applauded him and it was yet another golden operatic memory for her. At least two critics, Charles Acton and Robert Johnston drew attention in their reviews to the fact that soprano Marina Cucchio laboured under a cold and obviously it affected her singing and probably her acting as well. She was replaced in later performances. Acton was greatly impressed by the tenor’s performance, the beautiful quality of his voice, his exemplary phrasing, the way he obeyed the composer’s marks, and he was a rarity among opera tenors as he was content to sing and not just to make his voice ring off the walls. To Robert Johnston, di Stefano provided real pleasure to opera purists and his mezza voce was admirable. This aspect was also touched on by Brian Quinn (Evening Herald) who said that the most abiding memory of the tenor’s performance was the effortless way he floated his top notes across the footlights and into the auditorium: they were things of rare beauty. Other critics referred to the tenor’s entirely natural talent and the rich, sensual and virile timbre of his voice and his stage presence. These virtues were guaranteed to endear him to audiences and undoubtedly attributed greatly to his success. It was his lifestyle, though, that also proved a talking point in Dublin. The Irish like men who enjoy a drink, a flutter on the horses and perhaps a good game of poker. Di Stefano came into this category and stories began to circulate from his hotel of the late night poker sessions with friends, including the film star Peter Finch who was sometimes ‘tired and emotional’ and no expert at the game. Donnie Potter would say the Italians liked card games and he played with them at Nico’s restaurant. But di Stefano was playing for fairly big stakes. Maestro Annovazzi happened to drop into his hotel after a performance of Tosca and found him sipping a Scotch, smoking a cigar and preparing for a poker session. ‘Will you join us, Maestro?’ asked the tenor smilingly. Annovazzi nodded his head and looked at the tenor in a curious way. ‘Your voice, Pippo,’ he said, ‘it will not last, you know, if you continue to treat it like that. And you must not stay up late every night.’ ‘You must not worry for Pippo, Maestro,’ di Stefano replied, with a friendly hand on the other’s shoulder, ‘Pippo has no fears. If my voice fails me I go back to my little village in Sicily and settle down and sing no more.’ To his friends, the tenor was affectionately known as ‘Pippo’ and his warm-hearted personality made him friends easily. Maestro Annovazzi was of course deadly serious and could be a disciplinarian. It was known that some Italian artists avoided being seen drinking and smoking in his presence.
If di Stefano left Dublin on June 18 in high spirits, the same could probably not be said about another outstanding Italian tenor, Ferruccio Tagliavini who gave a recital at the Gaiety accompanied by Jeannie Reddin. Frances O’Gorman and her mother travelled from Dundalk to be present and were saddened to find so many empty seats in the theatre. They had both admired his singing and possessed his records. Unfortunately the recital was delayed by the slamming of doors in the dress circle as people straggled into their seats from the bars. To Frances O’Gorman, it was downright bad manners. ‘I was embarrassed and felt this was no way to treat a brilliant singer. It could not have been a very enjoyable occasion for him.’ As soon however as he sang Tosti songs and arias by Massenet and Cilea she forgot what had gone before and enjoyed his performance enormously. He had an appealing presence and his voice was lyrical and warm in timbre. He deserved a packed house. She suspected though that people’s money had been spent on tickets for di Stefano’s “Tosca”, so on this occasion Tagliavini had to take almost a back seat. She had sympathy for him. The di Stefano saga was not quite finished. It is said that when tenor Umberto Borso, a firm favourite with Irish audiences, saw at first hand the way the red carpet was pushed out for di Stefano he took umbrage and vowed never again to sing in Dublin. He was especially irked by the talk of di Stefano’s fees for in comparison to his own they bore no resemblance. Whether he confronted Colonel O’Kelly on the question no one seems to know, but at least one chorus member says Borso was angry and let it be known to some of his Italian colleagues. The sight of di Stefano in his plush dressing room must have been especially galling for Borso, as he had to make do for years with dressing rooms in a poor condition. He would be a loss; his Radames, Manrico and Riccardo were but a few of the parts that stay in the memory. He did however see out that spring season of 1963.
(Extracted from “Love and Music: The Glorious History of the Dublin Grand Opera Society” by Gus Smith, 1998)
Opera in Ireland 