Ciao Derek: Other opera singers who heard Lanza sing live and were in awe of his voice were tenors Alberto Remedios and Jon Weaving, the latter echoing Gedda’s comment “The greatest tenor voice I ever heard,” and soprano June Bronhill-all at the Albert Hall.
Robert Merrill, who had raved about Lanza’s voice to his singing teacher Samuel Margolis and coach Leila Edwards.
And Robert Weede, “ Lanza had what I believe to be the greatest vocal gift of his decade.”
I am sure there must be others.
Hi Derek: I did not ask Sutherland and Bonynge which concert they attended, I, guess I could have but whether they remembered after so many years is another matter.
Malbin on one occasion stated that Lanza’s voice was the same size as Di Stefano’s!
On another she said the size of Tucker. In 2003 she told me that the voice was big- so I wouldn’t call her testimony the most reliable!
It would be interesting indeed to find out the opinions of singers such as DelMonaco, Valletti, Schipa, Martinelli - but the question is, did these singers actually hear Mario in person. Recordings don't count as a true and realistic representation of the voice and I have to wonder if these operatic "superstars" would have been able to suppress their own egos enough to state an objective opinion of Lanza's talent - much as Gedda and Sutherland did with the RAH concert.
Well, enough of my rambling. Again, great posts, et al.
Ciao - Tony
If I understand the above passage correctly, Lanza indirectly and unwittingly gave impetus to Del Monaco’s popularity with the Italian public. Now why would Del Monaco try to compete against Lanza if he didn’t consider the latter at least his equal?
Cheers,
Lou
Hi Lou: By 1951, Del Monaco was already well established in operatic circles having sung, or more appropriately blasted, his way through many Italian opera houses, including La Scala. He was also known among opera aficionados in America following performances in San Francisco and the Metropolitan.
The Italian film on Caruso was a shoddy, cheaply produced non-event made to capitalise on the enormous success of The Great Caruso. The film disappeared in no time at all and did little or nothing for Del Monaco who, apart from murdering Addio Mia Bella Napoli, blasts his way through half a dozen arias ranging from Una Furtiva Lagrima to Vesti La Giubba all sung at full volume, in a monochromatic way, and in what I call “The mouth full of marbles singing technique.”
If Jan Neckers claims that “Mario Del Monaco was Italy 's secret weapon against Hollywood 's Mario Lanza as he was the real thing; not a movie tenor but a real successor of Enrico Caruso.’ I can only say that the secret weapon totally misfired.
Hi Lou: That quote from the New York Times is completely wrong. The Great Caruso went into production in 1950 and was released in April 1951.
Leggenda di Una Voce was made in 1951 and not released in America until September 1953.
As for Del Monaco, you are right in saying that he coveted the household name status Lanza had achieved, as did many others in the operatic world. But as far as tenors are concerned the only one who came close and, unfortunately, failed was Oreste Kirkop.
Frankly, I’m not terribly interested in what Neckers has to say.
I took him to task on a couple of points in his review of my book, where he stated,
“One wonders if musical competence means praising every single note Lanza sang at the expense of every other tenor of his era.”
I told him he should read the book again, as there are many instances where I am critical of Lanza’s singing.
And,
“Absolutely ridiculous is Cesari’s statement that the legendary De Sabata desperately wanted Lanza for Chenier at la Scala. And while Cesari is otherwise eager to quote ‘sources’ this quote, not surprisingly, remains unsupported.”
I pointed out reference note number 19 in Chapter 15 to him, and what did Neckers do? He left his review unchanged.
Profiles: The Vocal Mission - George London
New Yorker, October 26, 1957 p49-92
Joseph Wechsberg
[George] borrowed some money from a benevolent uncle and paid a visit to the West Fifty-seventh Street studio of Enrico Rosati, a singing teacher who had had a hand in training the voices of a number of distinguished singer, including Beniamino Gigli and Giacomo Lauri-Volpi. Rosati listened unenthusiastically while London sang for him, and then told him curtly that he had "a lot to learn." He consented to accept him as a pupil, however, and during the next year London, living in a third rate hotel on upper Broadway, did the best he could to learn a lot, singing scales and practiing solfeggio. Another pupil of Rosati's at the time was Mario Lanza, whom London had known in Los Angeles. Listening to Lanza sing brought back memories of London's Victrola-playing days in Montreal, for it seemed to him that his friend had a natural tenor voice second only to Caruso's - an opinion he still holds.
During such moments of respite from their strenuous regimens Rosati allowed them, London and Lanza began preparing for a concert tour that the Columbia Artists Management was arranging. In 1947, Rosati pronounced the young met fit for the tour, and they set out with the American soprano Frances Yeend, who was better known than either of them. The were billed as the Bel Canto Trio, and they travelled from coast to coast and from Newfoundland to Mexico. As the biggest box-office attraction, Miss Yeend received forty-five percent of the take; Lanza, being a tenor and thus commanding a higher price than a baritone, got thirty; and London had to content himself with the remaining twenty-five.
The Trio performed duos and trios, to piano accompaniment, and each member had two or three solo specialties, London's being the serenade, "Vous qui faites l'endormie," from gounod's "Faust," and Leporello's aria "Madamina, il catalogo," from "Don Giovanni." By and large, the critics praised the trio, and all went well as long as the singers were on the concert platform. Things were not so smooth off-stage. "As far as Miss Yeend was concerned, the way Lanza and I behaved left something to be desired," London said not long ago. "He and I overate, over drank, overslept, and just generally overdid things."
The personal difficulties of the three singers were aggravated by the fact that Lanza refused to go anywhere by plane, although their schedule was a tight one; Miss Yeend and their accompanist usually took a plane to the next stop, to set things up for their appearance, and she was often kept wondering uneasily if they would all be together in time for the concert, while Lanza and London - the latter preferred the easygoing companionship of his friend while traveling - trailed along by train or bus. Once, Lanza and London slept late, missed a through bus to Mexico City, and had to take a local jitney, which, as it stopped in one hamlet after another, became laden with mothers vainly trying to hush squalling babies, and men whose baggage included quite a lot of livestock. It was fearfully hot, and Lanza and London slaked their thirst with a few bottles of the vin du pays, after which they burst into full-throated song, to terrific ovations from their fellow passengers. The singers reached Mexico City just in time for the concert, but both were hoarse, and Miss Yeend's expression was steely as she took her bows with them on the platform.
At the end of the tour, Lanza signed a movie contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and the next season [1948), when the Bel Canto Trio set out once more, Mario Berini, who is now a successful publisher's representative and has a hand in, among other things, the export of comic books, succeeded him as its tenor. It was in the course of this tour that London, taking advantage of a hole in the ensemble's schedule as it travelled through Iowa, stopped off at Estherville to give his first solo recital. He was rewarded with a check for three hundred dollars and enough applause to prompt him to sing several encores, including "Ol' Man River" - a number that, over the years, has almost become his trademark.