Last week was Shirley Verrett’s birthday, and many people here have shared a personal homage to the diva’s great artistry, recalling her human kindness. I wanted to add this little remembrance.
During the maelstrom of the preparation of the first opera production in the new Bastille opera house, I had the privilege of working side by side with her in a new production of ‘Les Troyens.’ It was to be the inauguration of the new home of the Opéra de Paris, and before the paint had even dried, a time of excitement and anticipation. And it was also a time of fear of the unknown.
Shirley Verrett was to sing the Queen Dido, and I would sing Narbal. I was also Panthée on alternate nights. And the Ghost of Priam. It seems now as if I was on call at all times, every day for those two months. But I also was able to hear all the musical rehearsals, and view the great soprano (and the others in the cast) in action.
I remember our very first day of rehearsals in the cavernous space underground, where each of us struggled to find the appropriate rehearsal room. Unbelievably, most door indications and most levels of the new theater were not yet clearly marked. Shirley Verrett was simply stunning as she arrived for the cast briefing by stage director Pier-Luigi Pizzi, elegantly composed and gracious. They had worked many times together in Italy, and she was greeted as of true royal blood, as this was the Old-World way of Pizzi, a stage director whom I have always admired since our ‘Les Indes galantes’ at the Châtelet and ‘Le Comte Ory’ in Pesaro. He embraced her grandly as well as her teenage daughter, who was traveling with her. But despite Miss Verrett’s regal demeanor and the public bearing and aura of a true international star, she was incredibly down to earth at all times, a simple artisan, with me particularly and right from the start, as I still can recall with countless examples.
In her first musical rehearsal with Myung-Whun Chung, the new Paris music director fresh from his job at the Maggio Musicale in Florence, she was very frank when discussing her voice. Although hushed and confidential, I heard every word. Seated at the far end of the piano, she explained how she would be approaching certain passages in her voice, where she felt she had weaknesses, where she would need time and understanding from the conductor. Always matter-of-fact and composed, she had developed skills over the years to work with the best musicians and yet obtain what she needed to succeed in this challenging role.
My first occasion playing together with Miss Verrett involved Narbal bringing bad news in scene VII of Act I, “J’ose à peine announcer la terrible nouvelle…” From that very first moment down in the rehearsal room, after my character enters the action breathlessly, she clasped my hands and played in the style of a great tragedienne as no one else I’ve ever encountered. Her eyes never left mine, across her face I felt the deep concern for the tragic destiny facing all of Carthage, and I felt at that moment as if she were reading deeply behind my own eyes.
And in every performance, she gripped me and drew me closer in the same way, always with her piercing gaze. Every moment of her presence onstage was filled with this same kind of intensity, with this same “in-the-moment” gravity, and I’ve never forgotten the lesson – which I’ve endeavored to employ onstage when singing wherever possible, with the same sincerity.
As the run continued, I decided one night to knock on the door of her dressing room, which was on the extreme opposite side of the stage from her friend and rival Grace Bumbry and mine (that’s another story!). She was happy to sign this picture for me, and wanted to know what else would be coming up for me after this production. We talked about agents and about critics. And she gave me one priceless piece of advice.
I couldn’t figure out why one of the most influential men of the Parisian musical press, who covered the events across all of France, was always eager to snub me or ignore to even mention me in his papers. That’s where she repeated her praise to me, and waved off that perfidious reviewer and said with sincere determination, looking me again straight in the eye: “Just sing elsewhere!”
And that was the beginning of the next chapter for me. After changing agents, that next summer I would sing in Santa Fe, and in many cities in the US and Europe, and later even in Brazil.
So often I think with gratitude of Shirley Verrett’s electrifying voice and presence, her warm human kindness, and that well-considered advice!
Just lucky, I guess.