At the age of 87, he left us Thursday.
He was always warm and charming, modest, perhaps the model of a gentleman. Generous beyond belief with his time and his resources, I also knew he trusted and believed in my talent. With his vast knowledge of vocal repertoire, he suggested to me several rarely-performed Lieder by Schubert that he knew would be particularly suited to me, and among them are many favorites I continued to sing for years, such as the exuberant “Dithyrambe.”
I didn’t have a grand piano in those days, and Dalton didn’t live in Paris, so he arranged we work sometimes at the home of composer Jacques Leguerney, sometimes at Gérard Souzay’s apartment, where I met the great baritone on several occasions. He admired me and often gave me advice, once memorably in the corridors of the Opéra-Comique, where I saw him the last time. He said, “Always be true to yourself.”
Dalton procured a manuscript copy for me of the hard-to-find Gabriel Fauré mélodie ‘Sérénade du bourgeois gentilhomme’ from Souzay, when he learned I wanted it to be part of our all-Fauré recording project. We spent a great deal of time carefully preparing that album, and because our schedules coincided in February, we endured the chill of Forcalquier in the winter, recording in a large but drafty chateau. I remember him warming his fingers with a noisy space heater by the grand piano between takes. We just laughed afterwards, it was all so much fun, really.
Later, if Dalton couldn’t get backstage to greet me after a performance, he never failed to leave a note with the concierge. My thoughts are with you, Dalton, as you join the constellation of the other great and beloved musical figures in Eternity.