Word: bori
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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First, it brought forth a heroine. Lucrezia Bori, whom New Yorkers had viewed in a matter-of-fact way as a dainty, satisfactory operatic soprano, became suddenly a capable, hard-working money-raiser, speaking in her charming, broken English at opera performances, club luncheons, society dinners, signing letters of thanks even to people who sent in as little as a dollar...
...bigheaded Richard Wagner. Violinist Albert Spalding caused a momentary stir when he came before the court and said: "I, Paganini, am not dead." He played none too well, and when Soprano Frieda Hempel did her old Jenny Lind act, she sang off pitch. But nobody minded, especially when Soprano Bori came forward. Soprano Bori that evening was Adelina Patti, dressed in crinoline, a wreath around her hair. "I, Adelina Patti." she said, "have a message for you from one of my much younger colleagues. Lucrezia Bori. The Metropolitan has been saved. . . . Lucrezia Bori thanks you." Well through the night...
...train carrying eleven carloads of garrulous, good-humored people chuffed out of Manhattan's Pennsylvania Station one morning this week. The Metropolitan Opera Company, its future still undecided,* was on the way to Baltimore. There pretty Lily Pons would exhibit her clear, high trills in Rigpletto. Graceful Lucrezia Bori would sing in Pagliacci. Baritone Lawrence Tibbett would stain himself brown and enact Emperor Jones. The Company's famed Wagnerians would sing in Tristan und Isolde...
...conducted there 48 years ago, helped master ceremonies. Out of her seclusion came Olive Fremstad whose Wagnerian interpretations have not been approached until this winter when Frida Leider and Maria Olszewska joined the Metropolitan.† Together the oldtimers sat at a table in a night-club scene, watched Lucrezia Bori and Rosa Ponselle do lively impersonations of cigaret girls, after which tiny Lily Pons did an Apache dance with enormous Lauritz Melchior as her shrinking partner and Dancer Rosina Galli, Mr. Gatti's wife, conducted the orchestra...
...first came on stage, a tall, broad-shouldered, unaffected person unlike the run of chunky, strutting tenors. He had stopped it again with his quiet, tender singing of the second-act drama. He had taken more than 35 curtain calls, clinging tight to the hand of Soprano Lucrezia Bori, who had done much to help him around the stage, on which he had never rehearsed. But if with his acting Tenor Crooks reminded people of a solemn young amateur done up for the first time in the frills and wigs of 18th Century Paris, he more than made up with...