TETRAZZINI SINGS IN THE STREETS.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXI, Issue 41, 18 February 1911, Page 10

TETRAZZINI SINGS IN THE STREETS.

"Melba to Sing in the Streets of Sydney. Saturday Night at the corner of Pitt and Market streets. Free for All. Bring your Own Standing-room." Try to imagine how you would feel if you woke up one- morning in the middle of winter and were greeted with that impossible headline, written full across' your paper. Yet, changing Melba for letrazzmi, Sydney for fc>an Irancieco, and Pitt for Kearney, you have the notice that recently appeared in our papers. To Australians ietrazzini is. as yet only the name of one set up ac the rival to Melba; but to Americans on the Pacific Slope, and particularly San Franciscans, it stands for "the greatest singer af all time." It was San Francisco that discowied Tetrazzini, and her free performance on Christmas Eve was merely her way of acknowledging the indebtedness. In New York, iSoston, or Chicago-, you may venture the opinion that, though a, great artist, 'iebrazzmi has net the rich, pare vocal quality of Meiba j but beware where you do so on this side of the Mississippi. The great diva has been giving a series of concerts here, but though singing in the largest hall available-, thousands are turned away nightly. Crowds' had como in from the country to hear her, and as it was getting near to Christmas, with small hope for many, the Chronicle made the suggestion that ehe should warble to a quarter of a million at once, and outside its office, which stands at the corner of the largest open space in the city. It is the middle of our winter, that is if San Francisco can be said to have a winter, yet Tetrazzini accepted gladly. A platform,' surmounted by a sounding board, was run up in a few hours — they build small skyscrapers here in as many weeks — and by 7 o'clock there, were a hundred and fifty thousand people stretching both ways along Market-street and deep down Third, Geary, and Kearney streets. Within any possible chance of hearing, and beyond, the streets were sardined by 8 o'clock, and when wo count in the thousands and thousandb peering from the thousand and more windows of the Monadnuck, the Palace, the "Call," the "Chronicle," and other buildings, it ia no exaggeration to say that w-eilnigh a quarter of a million were waiting at half-past 8 when Tetrazzini >nade her spectacular entry on to the platform, bhe came in her rose-pink cloak and hei iridescent, trailing white gown, with a big transparent hat, sparkling with brilliants, and gorgeous with waving plumes. For whole minutes ehe waa kept acknowledging the plaudits that echoed up through the tall buildings, the windows of which served as the limitless boxes in a sort of Gargantuan grand opera-house. Her face was wreathed in the well-known Tetrazzini smilo. It was the smile of the child pleased to the point of fighting with its tears. _ Then silence. Paul Steindorf had trie<i with an orchestra to command attention, but in vain; and in vain a choir sought to impart a religious tone with some carols. Those near the platform listened, but beyond the sound was like a concertina and a street singer battling with two electric cars. No sooner did Tetrazzini pick up the sheet of music than a reverential calm pervaded the whole atmosphere. It was as though a dome had suddenly been placed over them, and each had felt aa a devout worshipper at a sacred shrine. Then that* wonderful voice pealed out, not in an attempt to break records for carrying purposes, but to do its very best for what, to her, was the dearest audience in the world. She may have sung louder than usual, but if so it was because sho could not do too much for this people. Her first number was "The Last Rose of Summer," but she reached the climax of her vocal excellence in "Non Destarmi," "I would linger in this dream that entlirals me." The scene* that marked the close of this item will live in my brain for ever. Words cannot describe the enthusiasm of that crowd and that singer.' The tears that were held back at her reception broke forth at this wild demonstration. Then all was over, and San Francisco walked home. It could not ride. It would have taken a week to move that number in the cars. — "Syd,v>sy Girl," in the Sydney Herald.