SINGERS AND PLAYERS

Auckland Star, Volume XLI, Issue 161, 9 July 1910, Page 12

SINGERS AND PLAYERS

Carreno is to give her second recital in. Auckland to-night, and her final perform-

ance—for the present tour only 01 hopes—on Monday. . As readers a*v. aware, the usual paragraph" finds no place in this or the adjoining on stage matters, but it is impossible to refrain from emphasising the importance to the ■community of the visit of artists of the supremacy of Carreno,and the desirability of seeing that they have no cause to regret the same, but can. rather bear home to their confreres in the old world heavily substantiated accounts of our appreciation of music. We are at present getting wonderful talent, and the singers, players and great artdste who have come have been able to report well of us. It is to be hoped that enormous audiences will fill the Choral Hall, not only for the sake of their present enjoyment, but for the future benefits that will accrue from their patronage of the very great lady who is at present the guest of this city.

X is a secret, but an open one—that Benno Scherek is with Mr. Thomas Beecham of London and "Another" to form a triple, alliance of Emperors of Amusement.

On Herr Benno Sc&erek has been conferred the; title Imperator Australis. They will be no common or garden variety of stars in the firmament of the new Triumvirate. Sousa'a Band, Tettrazini, . Mischa Elman, the world-famous violin? ist, and the ] opera of "Elefctra" are mentioned as coming, just to go on with, as it were. Like the world-famed pills, says GJtH. in '"Christchurch Press," one of these should be worth, more .than a guinea a box!

Lajo3, Munczy, the "King of Gipsy Violinists" died at Buda Pest on April 19th, at the age of scay-Chxee years, leaving property of the value of about £90,000. He had played before nearly all European anonarchs, including the late King Edward, and was a, particular favourite of the late Empress Elizabeth, who used to listen to Jus music for hours at a time, and gave him. many costly presents. A great part of the violinist's fortune came from the jewellery which ladies of the Hungarian aristocracy used to tear off and throw at him when they were carried away by his. passionate playing of the wild melancholy Hungarian-nation-al tunes and dances.

Madame Mary Conly, who leaves London for Australia some time in July, i≤ to 'bring an extensive repertoire for use during her tour of the Commonwealth. Among her items will be found some well-known ballads and old English songs, and her audiences will also have the pleasure of hearing her in gems from foreign composers, like Dvorak, Verdi, Gounod, and Wagner. In addition to these, iowev«r, it is now considered quite probable that 'the distinguished singer will be heard in one or two of the more notable oratories, like "The Messiah," "Elijah," and "Stabat Mater." Madame Conly has 'frequently appeared in these compositions in Great Britain, and is_ now considered one of the foremost exponents of this class of music in the English-speaking world.

The Begging-letter writer and the Deadhead (no offence to the gentleman who signs the next column, one speata of. the amateur variety) are the bane and burden of an opera singer's life, says Tetrazzini. Most of those who write axe seekers of favours. The least exacting of them "merely ask for money; but sometimes they demand quite large sums. She says that if she had gratified the requests made to her during the last year or two by people who have no claim upon her, she would now be several millions in debt. After struggling bravely to keep abreast of the flood of begging letters, she found it impossible to answer them all, and, as a consequence all are now ignored; Hundreds of clergymen write asking her to sing at their churches to help them to get money for some church fund. Here, again, it is impossible to discriminate. So they are all refused. She hasnoticed that there are a number of people who write very charmingly to ask if she can send them tickets so that they can hear her sing, and afterwards write very rudely when she tells them that it is beyond her power to oblige them. One of the quaintest of the thousands of ticket-beg-gars was a lady who forwarded quite a long poem, about the singer and ended it with the usual request in plain prose. "If my correspondents only knew the enormous number of applications I receive for opera tickets, and if they only knew hovr much I should like them all come and hear mc sing, I am sure they would not say such unkind things when 1 have to refuse them the tickets they asK for," Madame writes, rather plaintively. Autograph hunters worry her considerably.

Chance made an opera singer out of Giuseppe Campanari, the eminent basso. Leaving the Conservatory of Milan as prize pupil in the 'cello and piano departments, he became first 'cellist in the orchestra at La Scala. There he discovered that he had a voice, and trained himself by imitating the singers when he returned to his rooms. At rehearsal one day a baritone was forced to etop by hoarseness. No substitute could be found. Campanari rose and volunteered to sing the part. He got the chance, and won tae applause of hi 3 astonished colleagues by carrying off the role in splendid etyle. The managers worked ■their new find so hard that within a year and a-half his voice was entirely gone. Then ihe went back to his 'cello. For eight years he worked slowly and steadily to recover his voice. He was first 'cellist in the Boston Symphony Orchestra under (Arthur Nikiech, when he felt sure enough of himself to sing again in public Once more he surprised his colleagues by leaving his" place in the orchestra to appear as soloist at a. Boston Symphony concert. His return to opera followed. Another noted exemplar of the grand opera game is the soprano Marie Eappold, for three years a leading member of the Metropolitan Opera Company, -who is,now singing in Germany. Born in Brooklyn, she studied singing from girlhood, and dreamed the dreams of a thousand other American girls of one clay reigning as a Queen of 'Song. Then she married, a daughter was born, and in the lK*ppines3 of her home life ehe put away her artistic ambitions. She contiriued singing in concert, and, though tho operatic ambition, was not dead, she had grown to regard it as l something unattainable. One day her vocal teacher made the surprising announcement that her chance to sing in opera was at hand. He had arranged for her to sing at a. Schiller festival in Brooklyn, at which Heinrich Conried impresario of the Metropolitan, was to officiate. She didn't see the connection but she sang, and when her teacher presented, Cenried, the impresario said bluntly, "You ought to sing Eba." "She can," interjected the teacher. «Co me over and sing it for mc to-morrow" said Conried. This was impossible as Madam Eappold. was leaving next day for a concert. "Can you sing it to-night?" said Conried. "Yes" said Eappold. And she did. and euc;«eedea.