Arts & Culture:
Tenor Enrico Caruso appeared in concert in Houston in 1920.
Never before has such wild enthusiasm characterized a Houston concert audience as that night after Enrico Caruso had sung the “Vestil a Giubba” aria from “Pagliacci.” There were shouts of admiration and a stormy call for his return. So pleased was Caruso with this demonstration of appreciation that he favored Houston with a number he never sings as an encore, the aria “M’ appari” from the opera Martha, by Flotow. Caruso sang the beautiful lines exquisitely. But then he had sung everything superbly and this was the big climax to a big program.
Aside from those who had heard Caruso before, there were many who came to hear him sing just to find out, if they could, wherein lay his unsurpassed drawing power as a singer. The answer is simple enough: Caruso has the voice. He is not as restrained in his art as those of the French school. Neither is there the aloofness of self conscious greatness in his manner. He is very human and makes friends right away with his audience. And the audience, sensing the friendliness in his attitude applauds as unrestrainedly as Caruso sings. And Caruso’s voice is not to be compared with that of any one else. He is truly the world’s great tenor.
Glimpse of Real Caruso.
Caruso is decidedly adapted to many roles. Off stage he was the biggest “cut-up” imaginable. To The Chronicle representative he confided that he called his secretary “Mutt” and his accompanist “Jeff ” because of the “long-and-shortness” of their build. Himself, the great Caruso dubbed “Jiggs,” and proved title to the claim by hunkering his body up into a perfect likeness of McManus’s famous little Irishman. Caruso’s delight on caricature was brought out in the manner in which his usually erect and portly figure took on the “paunchy” attitude of Jiggs. But Caruso’s Italian nose would not accommodate itself to the Irish profile and Caruso’s accommodating finger was brought into play in tilting the recalcitrant member ceiling-ward. He kept the backstage audience convulsed with laughter half the time.
In his hand, while he sang, Caruso held a silver “Lucky It,” which his manager had presented to him in New York before starting on the tour.
This “Lucky It” is a pert little figure
with squinted eye and button of a nose. Caruso wears also as a talisman a piece of exquisite coral from Japan, as smooth as marble and curiously formed. On the same chain he wears a gold disk on which the figure of the Virgin Mary is cared in basrelief. This was presented to him during one of his many visits to the City of Mexico. After exhibiting these curios, Caruso’s mood changed and he began rumbling an accompaniment to the song Miss Miriam was singing at the time, squatting into an exaggerated imitation of the position at the piano of Miss Miriam’s accompanist and banging the chords out of the air with all the fervor off a long-haired pianist.
Pleased with responsiveness.
And this is, perhaps, a rare glimpse into the personality of the real Caruso. For he was in high good humor, immensely pleased with the responsiveness of the audience. This he evidenced by singing encores and bigger numbers for his encores than in his rule. On the stage he sings superbly. Off stage he is a fun loving Caruso, as given to mimicry as he is to song.
Caruso’s program numbers were the three arias “Che Gelida Manina” from “La Boheme,” “Una Furtiva Lagrima” from “L’Elisir d’Amore” and “Vesti la Giubba” from “Pagliacci.” As encores he sang, after the first, “A Vucchella” and “Pour un baiser” by Tosti, the first a Neapolitan and the second a French song: “For You Alone” by Geehl, in English and “Sento che t’amo” by Fatuo, Italian.
Liked to Sing for Audience.
After the second aria, he sang “Elegie” by Massenet, xxxxxx*, “La Danza” by Rossini, “A Dream” by Bartlett (English) and the Mexican song “Noche feliz” by Pasadas. This was considered a generous response to the applause which greeted him and Caruso himself remarked several times, “This is a beautiful concert. The audience is fine. I like to sing for them”
Then the queer trick with which Caruso turns from seriousness to laughter asserted itself and he added:
“I see in this audience many beautiful ladies, all decorat’-ah, beautiful. I sing to the beautiful ladies, not to the men, only sometimes. Ah, Zerato (to his secretary) you unlucky dog, you can
not see the beautiful ladies out there-a fine audience.” And Caruso drew his shoulders up into a shrug of adoration for the Houston audience, then he went before the lights to sing again.
The audience was characterized by elegance of attire, the event being of social as well as musical import, and by a courteous conduct throughout the concert which placed the stamp of culture and musical appreciation on Houston as nothing else could do. Caruso was delighted which this feature of the program and repeatedly commented upon it, declaring he would not forget to mention it when he returned to New York. At least 6000 persons were admitted to the auditorium.
On Program with Caruso.
With Caruso on the program were Albert Stoessel, the violinist, whose artistic playing entitled him to appear jointly with so great a singer, and Miss Alice Miriam, soprano, who sang two arias and a group of smaller songs. Her first number “Depuis le jour” from “Louise,” by Charpentier.
The group included “Values” by Frederick W. Vanderpool, “A Song in the Night” by Marshall Bartholomew, and “Ecstasy” by Walter Morse Rummel. Her second aria was “Un bel di” from “Madame Butterfly.” For encores Miss Miriam sang “Dawn,” By Leone and “The Year’s at the Spring” by Mrs. H. H. A. Beach.
Mr. Stoessel delighted his audience. His readings are smooth and his harmonics perfect. He was received with great enthusiasm and had to play several extra numbers. They were “Serenade Espagnole,” by Chaminade, “Schoen Rosmarin,” by Kriesler and “To a Wild Rose,” by MacDowell.
Both accompanists played with delicacy and excellent musicianship. Not a note seemed misplaced or over-emphasized. For Mr. Caruso, Salvatore Fucito was accompanist and Louis Grunberg played for Mr. Stoessel and Alice Miriam
Mr. Coppicus, manager for Caruso, paid a high compliment to Mrs. Edna W. Saunders, the local manager, after the concerts. “Mrs. Saunders is known in New York.” He said “for her managerial ability and for her agreeable personality. We are delighted to bring our biggest artists to her.” Caruso himself promised to come again, adding “When I shall have the time dear lady.” *Song title and artist illegible in original text.