FIRST, THE
MONEY 0921
In memoirs he
wrote in 1896, conductor Luigi Arditi recalls a situation in which a stubborn
baritone named Novara pursued his demand for money all the way into a
performance.
Novara had agreed
to sing the part of Rocco for three performances of Beethoven’s opera Fidelio with the understanding that, like everyone else in the company, he would be
paid in advance.
His payment for
the first performance went well enough, but on the second night he had to go to
a lot of trouble to get paid, and so Novara made it clear that he would not
sing the third performance until he had his money in hand.
He arrived at the
theater, put on his costume, and asked the impresario’s agent for his money,
only to be told that impresario James Henry Mapleson was dining out and had
forgotten to sign a check for him,
Novara told the
agent, Levelly by name, that he wasn’t going to sing until he was paid. Find
Mapleson and get the money, he demanded.
“I don’t know
where he is,” Levelly said, all too aware that curtain time was approaching.
“Here, take my watch as a guarantee, Novara, and for God’s sake, get into your
clothes.”
The baritone
stood his ground. “I don’t require your watch, man. I want my money, and unless
I get it before the curtain rises, I shall take off this damned wig, and the
stage carpenter can sing the role of Rocco.”
Levelly ran from
the theater and hailed a cab for parts unknown in search of Mapleson.
When the curtain
rose and Rocco sang his first aria offstage, conductor Arditi was startled to
hear a voice that sounded strangely like that of the stage manager. About then,
Levelly ran back into the theater, dripping with sweat, having come up with the
necessary cash from nowhere. He stuffed it into Novaro’s hand, and the stubborn
baritone rushed onto the stage just in time to save the performance.
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