Rest In Peace, Beverly Sills
Beverly Sills: A Remembrance
I just finished reading the NY Times obituary about Beverly Sills, one of the greatest coloratura sopranos to come out of American opera. She died of inoperable lung cancer at the age of 78, ironic considering she was a lifelong non-smoker and someone who relied on the power of her lungs to produce her unforgettable sound.
I worked with her in 1979-1980 when I was a super with Opera Memphis in an opera whose name now escapes me, though I think it might have been Donizetti's La Fille du Régiment, one of her signature roles. She was wonderful to work with-a diva, yes-but she was friendly to all. Watching her work was like watching God create the world. She had a great intensity and a fire for what she did. Like most temperamental opera stars, she knew best what was best for her role. And it showed when she sang, as in the attached clip from Rossini's Il Barbiere di Siviglia. She had perfect comedic timing, which served her well as is seen in the clip. Her Rosina was ditzy and determined. And the lilt of her higher range in the "Dunque io son" duet is almost sheer perfection! I regret I never saw another of her signature roles as the mad Lucia in Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor, one which brought her great acclaim as she began to climb opera's heights: from NY City Opera to La Scala to Covent Garden and, finally across the Lincoln Center Plaza where she started with City Opera, to the Metropolitan Opera.
Her Memphis performance was one of her last as a coloratura. Upon her retirement from the performance side of opera, she moved into the administrative side as the general director of City Opera for 10 years, raising its stake in the competitive world of opera and increasing its budget and endowment and beginning its apprentice program for future opera stars. Following that, she served as chairwoman of Lincoln Center and, coming out of retirement, the Metropolitan Opera.
She had a great amount of charm and wit, and could be just as earthy as possible. She held her own with the likes of Miss Piggy and Carol Burnett, the latter of whom she asked to emcee her farewell performance. She was a favorite of Johnny Carson's, appearing as a guest on the Tonight Show numerous times-helping to make it accessible to everyone-and being the only opera star to be asked to guest host in Carson's absence. One of my favorite stories about her self-deprecating outspokenness was her comment about the enthusiasm with which she was received at her belated debut at La Scala in 1969: “It’s probably because Italians like big women, big bosoms and big backsides.”
Somewhere among all these still-unpacked mementoes of my life is her book that she personally autographed to me and the poster from her farewell appearance with Opera Memphis. That poster will eventually have a place of prominence on a wall in my house, and the book will hold a place of honor on my bookshelves. Beverly Sills was one of those rare individuals that comes along once in a century, and I am glad to have been living in that century.
I just finished reading the NY Times obituary about Beverly Sills, one of the greatest coloratura sopranos to come out of American opera. She died of inoperable lung cancer at the age of 78, ironic considering she was a lifelong non-smoker and someone who relied on the power of her lungs to produce her unforgettable sound.
I worked with her in 1979-1980 when I was a super with Opera Memphis in an opera whose name now escapes me, though I think it might have been Donizetti's La Fille du Régiment, one of her signature roles. She was wonderful to work with-a diva, yes-but she was friendly to all. Watching her work was like watching God create the world. She had a great intensity and a fire for what she did. Like most temperamental opera stars, she knew best what was best for her role. And it showed when she sang, as in the attached clip from Rossini's Il Barbiere di Siviglia. She had perfect comedic timing, which served her well as is seen in the clip. Her Rosina was ditzy and determined. And the lilt of her higher range in the "Dunque io son" duet is almost sheer perfection! I regret I never saw another of her signature roles as the mad Lucia in Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor, one which brought her great acclaim as she began to climb opera's heights: from NY City Opera to La Scala to Covent Garden and, finally across the Lincoln Center Plaza where she started with City Opera, to the Metropolitan Opera.
Her Memphis performance was one of her last as a coloratura. Upon her retirement from the performance side of opera, she moved into the administrative side as the general director of City Opera for 10 years, raising its stake in the competitive world of opera and increasing its budget and endowment and beginning its apprentice program for future opera stars. Following that, she served as chairwoman of Lincoln Center and, coming out of retirement, the Metropolitan Opera.
She had a great amount of charm and wit, and could be just as earthy as possible. She held her own with the likes of Miss Piggy and Carol Burnett, the latter of whom she asked to emcee her farewell performance. She was a favorite of Johnny Carson's, appearing as a guest on the Tonight Show numerous times-helping to make it accessible to everyone-and being the only opera star to be asked to guest host in Carson's absence. One of my favorite stories about her self-deprecating outspokenness was her comment about the enthusiasm with which she was received at her belated debut at La Scala in 1969: “It’s probably because Italians like big women, big bosoms and big backsides.”
Somewhere among all these still-unpacked mementoes of my life is her book that she personally autographed to me and the poster from her farewell appearance with Opera Memphis. That poster will eventually have a place of prominence on a wall in my house, and the book will hold a place of honor on my bookshelves. Beverly Sills was one of those rare individuals that comes along once in a century, and I am glad to have been living in that century.