Word: patties
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...their neighbors in Philadelphia it seemed as if the Gianninis made music all the time. The father, Ferruccio, was an oldtime opera singer who could boast that he had once sung with Patti. The mother, Antoinetta, played the violin. Daughters Euphemia and Dusolina sang. Son Francis had a cello when he was big enough to wield one. Son Vittorio practiced endlessly on the piano...
...years ago there was a small, shabby theatre where neighbors dropped in to see a bit of drama, a bit of clowning and got for good measure a dash of grand opera. The impresario was Ferruccio Giannini, a tenor who could boast that he had once sung with Patti. At home the Gianninis made music all the time. The mother Antoinetta played the violin. Daughters Euphemia and Dusolina sang. Vittorio played the piano. Son Francis had a cello when he was big enough to wield one. Dusolina Giannini was 9 when she made her debut at her father...
...fairness to Miss Ponselle, disgruntled critics would have done well to point to the fact that there have been few successful Carmens. The redoubtable Lilli Lehmann sang the role like a Brünnhilde. Adelina Patti was completely unsuited to it. Most effective impersonation was by fiery Emma Calvé, though purists fussed at her because she took liberties with the music. Farrar's popular Carmen lacked the finesse of many of her other roles. Mary Garden was not at her best in the part. Maria Jeritza failed to stand the test. Those who disliked Ponselle's performance...
...made news with every utterance, set fashions in food and dress, left vivid memories with every song they sang. Old men still live who remember pious Jenny Lind when she trilled in gaslit Castle Garden, a protégée of that amazing Yankee, Phineas T. Barnum. Adelina Patti was singing at the old Academy of Music on 14th Street when broughams first brought Vanderbilts and Astors to the shiny new doors of the Metropolitan Opera House...
...Patti surrounded herself with cockatoos and basked in vanity. The careers of Garden, Farrar and Jeritza have been bright with jewels, racy with escapades. But Lotte Lehmann is just a singer. Her childhood in Perleberg, Germany, was plain. She remembers red plush furniture, a feeble-minded grandfather in an embroidered velvet cap, an understanding mother who on Christmas day played Santa Claus. Her father, a small-town official, was determined that his daughter should be a school-teacher because schoolteachers get pensions. Lotte Lehmann is already assured of a pension-from the proud Vienna Opera of which...