The Baltimore Opera, the House that Rosa Ponselle Built, Goes Dark

Having just relived my first opera performance, at Baltimore's Lyric Theater, I learned with deep sadness that the Baltimore Opera is bankrupt. After a run of performances of Bellini's "Norma", with the distinguished Armenian soprano Hasmik Papian (b. 1961) in the title role and Ruth Ann Swenson (b. 1960) singing her first Adalgisa, the company has canceled the rest of the season; Rossini's "The Barber of Seville" and Gershwin's "Porgy and Bess" had been scheduled. Originally known as the Baltimore Civic Opera, the company was founded in 1950 under the aegis of the American soprano Rosa Ponselle (1897 - 1981), one of opera's legendary figures.

An Italian-American from New Jersey, Ponselle (originally Ponzillo) was discovered by Enrico Caruso (1873-1921). The most celebrated singer of his time, Caruso had heard about Rosa, who was headlining in the vaudeville circuit with her sister Carmela as "Those Tailored Girls". The Met was mounting Verdi's "La Forza del Destino" for the tenor, an opera with a prodigiously difficult soprano part, and they didn't have a Leonora. (In the deeply superstitious world of Italian opera, "Forza" is feared much as Shakepeare's "Macbeth" is feared on the English-speaking stage.) Caruso talked his nervous friend Giulio Gatti-Casazza, the general manager of the Met, into taking a very big chance on a totally green, 21-year-old girl. After several auditions, Gatti finally said yes: they were desperate. After intensive coaching, she made her triumphant operatic debut (1918) opposite Caruso, singing the very demanding role of Leonora in the Met's first staging of that dark, sprawling, and possibly cursed work. This young American girl from vaudeville, who'd never been to Europe, was hailed as "a Caruso in petticoats". She rose quickly, against the most formidable rivals, to become Prima Donna Assoluta of the Met, and she reigned until she walked away at the pinnacle of her career 19 years later. Caruso, who was dead at 48 just three years later, had discovered the greatest "Italian" dramatic soprano of the 20th century, and, by common consent, the greatest on records.

She sang rarely in Europe: a handful of performances in London, where she was greeted with the kind of enthusiasm British audiences rarely exhibit, a few in Italy where she aroused frank delirium. She conquered the world, made uneasy peace with her terrible stage fright, and returned home to the Met. Her most important role was "Norma", the final work performed in Baltimore this month by the company she helped found. Norma is considered the most taxing role in the Italian repertoire; Lilli Lehmann (1848-1929), one of the most important singers of the late 19th century and later a distinguished teacher -- her pupils included Geraldine Farrar (1882 -1967) and Olive Fremstad (1871-1951) -- declared that it was harder to sing one "Norma" performance than the entire role of Brunnehilde, who sings, at enormous length and over far heavier orchestration, in "Die Walkure", "Siegfried", and "Die Gotterdammerung", about 13 hours in performance over three nights. Lehmann was world famous in both roles. I'm inclined to accept her judgment.

Ponselle's repertoire included Rachel in "La Juive", opposite the doomed Caruso, in his last new role; Santuzza in "Cavalleria Rusticana"; the title role in her friend Romano Romani's "Fedra", which she created; and Spontini's "La Vestale". She triumphed in Verdi's "Ernani", "Aida", "Don Carlo", "La Traviata", and "Il Trovatore"; Montemezzi's "L'Amore dei tre re"; Meyerbeer's "L'Africaine"; Giordano's "Andrea Chenier"; Ponchielli's "La Gioconda"; Spontini's "La Vestale"; and as Rezia in Weber's "Oberon". In her debut season she also sang Carmelita in "The Legend", by one Joseph Carl Breil. She held this work in such contempt that she later incinerated the score, noting tartly that the opera "would stink up a cat box". She was opera's greatest prima donna, but she was a tough girl from vaudeville, too. Her last performances were on tour as Carmen in Bizet's masterpiece (two live performances exist in sound) but when Olin Downes, critic of the New York Times, heaped scorn on her interpretation, Ponselle was enraged -- and hurt. Then Edward Johnson, Gatti's successor as head of the Met, refused to stage Cilea's "Adriana Lecouvreur" for her, and she walked away from the Met. Her career in opera, at its peak in 1937, was over.

Rosa moved to Green Spring Valley just outside of Baltimore, where she built a grand house, Villa Pace, the name inspired by the aria "Pace, pace mio Dio", (Peace, peace, my God") Leonora's climactic aria in the last act of "Forza". She remained active for many years as a radio artist. Rosa Ponselle is commonly considered one of the greatest voices on records. Many of her recordings (she recorded steadily throughout the 20's and 30's) have never been out of print. Her finest sides are among the undisputed glories of the phonograph. As late as 1954, Ponselle recorded songs and arias after RCA brought their equipment to Villa Pace; these recordings reveal a magnificent, dark, ruby-colored voice, still intact.

Ponselle's presence lured many famous singers to the Baltimore Opera, more for the chance to be coached by her than for their modest fees. Budgets were always tight, and many Baltimore Opera productions were graced by furniture from Villa Pace. James Morris (b. 1947), a Baltimore-born protege of Ponselle, and for many years the world's most important interpreter of the role of Wotan in Wagner's Ring Cycle, made his debut as Angelotti in Puccini's "Tosca". A little later I heard his role debut as Sparafucile in Verdi's "Rigoletto". Another young singer was making his role debut in the title part in that production: the splendid American baritone Sherrill Milnes (b. 1935), who prepared the role with Ponselle. Among many other famous singers, Rosa coached the Bulgarian soprano Raina Kaibaivanska (b. 1934) for Lyric Theater performances in the role of Puccini's Manon Lescaut. Kaibaivanska, a very good actress, had an important European career; she made few commercial recordings, but she can be heard in a number of exciting live performances.

Until shortly before her death, Rosa took a curtain call after every Baltimore Opera performance. Wearing a black floor-length brocaded caftan, looking every inch the Diva, she was helped to center stage, a strapping young usher on either side holding the grand old lady up. With a still-dazzling smile, she blew kisses to the audience, as love and devotion washed over her. "Applause is the most wonderful sound, just like rain on the roof." The Lyric Theater, built in 1894, was visited by countless great opera singers. None was greater than Rosa Ponselle, who built a company there that nourished many more greats ones. This week, after 58 years, the Baltimore Opera went dark. It's my heartfelt wish that someday, the lights will come back up.