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(Photo credit: Michael Winslow) |
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ooms tell many things about their occupant. In her beautiful
rooms, on the top floor of a fashionable Sutton Place apartment
building, I learned a lot about Nedda Casei even before she had
passed through the introductory smiles and words of welcome. A
terrace with well cared for plants and flowers, a family of
birds who considered themselves the rulers of the house,
impressionist landscape paintings, and 18th century furniture,
hundreds of recordings neatly arranged, the statue of an angel
looking down on us as we began to speak, made it clear that
Nedda Casei was a woman of deep thoughts, reverence for life,
and an eye for beauty. And in regard to beauty, Miss Casei, in
her seventh decade, was very beautiful that afternoon. With a
red dressing gown and a radiant smile, sitting before a window
that looked out upon her lushly planted terrace, she was a live
portrait that Whistler, or John Singer Sargent would have gladly
claimed as his own. As well, her inner beauty became more and
more apparent as she spoke about her deep love and devotion to
music, her relations with great colleagues, some magic moments,
and a few very challenging surprises: |
“The first time I did Amneris I was scheduled to do Carmen! I had
never done Amneris. I had been singing at the Met for three or four
years, and of course, if you didn't sing Amneris, 'where did you
come from at the Met?!' Well, I was in Czechoslovakia and I had a
contract for Carmen - one of the few times I actually carried
my contract with me! I was picked up at the airport and they're
driving me into the city, and they said 'the Rhadames and the Aida
will be at the rehearsal tomorrow, and you'll start at ten
o'clock!'” [much laughter]. “ And I said ‘Don't you mean Don Jose
and maybe Michaela??' And he said 'No! Its Aida - were doing
Aida! Look at the billboard!' We were passing some big billboard
just then. It was that Russian period of time in the '60's and I
couldn’t make out the Cyrillic letters – but I took his word for
it! I had been there earlier in the spring to make some
recordings, and while I was there, the Russian tanks actually
crossed the border! I had to flee! I've been in four revolutions!
Thats why I'm writing a book! 'She likes red, and she causes
revolutions!' they say. Well, regarding Aida, and the role of
Amneris, you study these roles, but the problem is you're doing it
in three days time, and you've never performed it before! And
you're in Czechoslovakia, and everybody's singing in Czech! Well...
the tenor sang in Italian - he was Polish. And I go to a piano
rehearsal, and then the next time, I'm singing it with the
orchestra, in front of a red, white, and blue draped theater because
they were so thrilled to have this American after the Russian
takeover! I remember in the middle of the performance thinking 'I
don't know where all the ‘pieta's’ go in the judgement
scene!' and the prompter was giving cues in Czech! I did a lot of
cramming between the third and fourth act! Well, I got it right, and
had a big success. It seems a lot of my happiest memories took place
when the world was falling apart!"
Another surprise involved her first encounter with Zeffirelli:
”I love rehearsals because there's where I fnd the giving
and taking - the creating, especially if you're working with first
class people. I was very blessed. I began with ZeffirellI when I was
in Italy. I started at a very good place. Everybody else had already
worked with him thousands of times, and there was a great to-do
about me, and he said 'who is this Casei? I never heard of her!' And
somebody came down to get me in the cafeteria, and said 'Zeffirelli
is up on stage and he's never heard of you! He's looking for you!'
So I was sitting there - 'oh, my carreer is over before it began!'
I thought. I'm looking into my coffee cup like a beaten down child.
Then I heard a stern - but beautiful - voice: ’Get up!' It had kind
of an English accent. (We were doing this performance of
Rigoletto ). I stood up - 'Turn around!' I turned around -
'You'll do! ‘ " [laughter] “That was my great qualification! The
sets were unbelievable! Nobody knew that I had never done the
performance before. And of course I had never sung it with the
orchestra before, and we never got to the third act.! Zeffirelli
cancelled rehearsals. It kept being postponed. He kept saying
’Well, let’s go over this part in the first act.' We got to the
dress rehearsal and still we hadn't done the act completely - just
bits here and there! They had trouble getting the third act up and
time passed - the orchestra ran overtime and after an extra hour
they packed up. ‘Thats it!' And they walked out, so we did it with
piano. And they could never get the whole set put up because t was
very complicated. So I just said ’Its in your hands, God. I can
just do the best I can!’ So we get to opening night. The gown I had
was terrific! I looked a lot like Zefferraelli's half sister, and
we had gone clothes shopping together and become friendly, and he
created this costume. It weighed forty-five pounds... yes, it
weighed forty-five pounds! And we were running up and down stairs!
It was all wool! Layers and layers! And ribbons! It was glorious,
but it was also heavy! And as I was about to go on stage, (the stage
hands had put the third act together literally for the first time)
there was a lot of mist, and a boat that was drawn across, and I was
on a ledge, and the house was tilted into another ledge, and
Rigoletto and Gilda crawled up the side of this stony rocky cliff -
it was very impressive. Well, as I was going on, the little box I
was standing on - split! Luckily a stage hand who was watching at
that moment caught me, I grabbed onto the edge of a platform, and he
pushed. I stood up and the next second I was running in and singing
..."ah, ah, e vent'altre appresso!" And I thought to myself
‘well, that’s what’s known as baptism by fire!’ ' The set was so
beautifully done - the fire in the fireplace looked so real - and
the caldron - I looked for the ladle - there it was! And I went over
and ladled some soup for Sparafucille. It was such a unique set, you
just knew what you had to do with it! One other thing happened. When
I was leaving the stage one of those big big sand bags fell - just
a few feet from me. I thought… ‘is somebody trying to tell mt
something??’” [laughter].
She knew at an early age she would be a singer, and built her life
around it:
” Even as a young child I said ‘I’m going to be a opera singer!’ I
was asthmatic. Nobody thought I had a chance, but I just said to
myself ‘Of course I can!’ And you know Jerome Hines was
asthmatic, and so was the wonderful baritone Cornell
MacNeil. What a voice! And I remember walking with him once - we
were in Chicago doing Rigoletto, and I heard him wheezing and I said
'do you have asthma?’ ’yes!’ 'And you don't have your vaporizer
with you, do you? (I never go anywhere without it!) ’No!’ 'Well
here! Use mine!' And he inhaled it and he was fine! And I thought to
myself 'these people have overcome what people might say is
impossible - but no - it isn't impossible! I think that perseverence
is a talent - wanting it so badly, loving it so much.
“ I never went to school, I just studied music. My teacher, William
Herman set up classes in languages, so that we really spoke them.
The most important thing Herman gave me was professionalism. He
demanded that you really know your roles: the history, costumes
people wore at the time - everything in depth. You had to know
a language. You didn't learn it by superficial means. He had a seven
year program if you were really serious - it was Roberta (Peters)
Eleanore (Ross), Elaine(Malbin) and me - we were all working
with him, and became very close. I thoght I was a coloratura - I had
a light high flute like voice to begin with - which often is the
case with mezzos - Roberta, on the other hand, was an alto as a
child and I was a coloratura! Coloratura, Hermann’s
specialty, was always easy for me and I did stay for the entire
seven years, but I didn't think it was truly right for me. I knew
there was something not 100%. What I needed was more roundeness of
tone - more real mezzo quality. I was already singing
professionally when I met Cesare Siepi. My accompanist was
his accompanist. Leo Taubman. Taubman got me a place at the
Mozarteum where they wanted an Octavian and a Komponist, and I had
studied both roles. Siepi sent me to a wonderful man and I ended up
staying in Milan to work with Vittorio Piccinini. He was a fabulous
teacher. Piccinini taught me the roundness, the love, the
expression, the depth, of singing.
“Finally I went to Fordham University to get my degree - while I
was working at the Met! They were wonderful to me - they gave me
one on one teachers because of my schedule of rehearsals and
performances.”
She often remarked that one was always a student in one way or
another, and that there were many kinds of teachers:
“ I was singing major roles at the Met for 21 years, and even then I
was still learning. Of course they have coaches, and one learns a
lot by that means. Maestro works with the coaches, gives them
his ideas, tempi, what he wants - then you're called in to work
with the coaches - then there are ensemble rehearsals with the
maestro so he can tear you apart! Or put you together depending
on how they do it. It’s a process. And then if they worked with you
before it makes the process that much easier because they know you
and trust you.
“ Also life experience is a great teacher Life things - loss or
something joyful - how does it affect you - your singing - your
voice?]Oh, it does! After a while I think it gives you strength.
Iwent through a very unpleasant four or five months in my life when
I was first working in Europe . I was in Basel, and I had some very
unpleasant things happen there. But it gave me a lot of inner
courage afterwards. Going through it was not so great, but
afterwards…, you learn a great deal from a bad spell. And when I
used to feel nervous, or when I was just about to go on stage – I’d
think ‘you’ve been through Basel, you can go through anything!’ It
gave me that feeling – what I went through in those early stages,
gave me a self knowledge – an ability to go through terrible things.
I think the voice grows when you grow. When my husband died, -
within a month after his death – I was asked to open the new theater
in Taipei. They chose the Lied von der Erde, and I decided
to do it in memory of my husband. If I hadn’t gone through that
death, it would have been a totally different performance. But
that’s the mysterious thing about music. We experience things –
something good, something bad, and the voice changes."
Music is a way of life for Nedda Casei:
“ I lived for my singing. I married very late - almost forty. I
realized it was a good idea not to marry young because you need to
share - and being an opera singer you need to be selfish. ’What’s
good for me? What’s good for my voice? What’s good for my health?’
After performances I was tired. I really tried to avoid receptions,
most of the time. Its not like you just had a performance and then
you rest for a month. You have other rehearsals, other
performances, things keep going. You're basically earning a living,
and to go and be social - the talking, being charming - is wearing!
You know, its not like life stops and you can go and enjoy it. You
have lessons, coachings, preparations, performances.
There were many opportunities to observe the greatest musicians at
close range, from both a personal and an artistic standpoint:
“I love working with colleagues. Zinka Milanov was
wonderful! I remember the first time I heard her was in the Verdi
Requiem at the very beginning of Bing's regime. Oh! Glorious!
She was warm and bubbly - a great cook - and she was much fun. We
were neighbors. She had a uniquely beautiful voice and she was a
live wire. We had a great time workng together - but of course, I
wasn't a soprano - maybe that made a difference! We often ran into
each other outside the Met andI socialized with her and her husband.
You know he was a Yugoslavian diplomat - he was ambassador to Mexico
when I was singing there. How interesting. During the war he was in
the underground - fought against the Nazis, became a distinguisehd
diplomat, and to me he was just Liubo, Zinka's husband, a very
gentle man ! Its unbelievable, the histories people have! And hers
is even more unbelievable! Everyone has his own story.
“I also remember singing Suzuki in Madama Butterfly with
Leontine Price. She hadn’t sung at the Met for a few years and
people bought up the tickets instantly. She did only two or three
performances at the time The ovation after she sang ‘tu, tu…’
with the child in her arms! It was like a wave that hit us. I was
standing next to her and it was overwhelming… overwhelming! The love
and passion people felt toward her. Extraordinary! I guess the basis
of it all – on both sides of the stage – is love.
“On the other hand, sometimes it’s only admiration. I was making my
Met debut in Rigoletto, and covering Octavian in
Rosenkavalier, and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf was
making her debut. Lisa Della Casa – the beautiful Lisa Della
Casa - was doing Octavian. The two women hated each other!
They really did not get along at all. And Lisa thought that she
should be doing the Marchellin so she didn’t come to rehearsals
– and I was her cover so I ended up doing all the rehearsals with
Schwarzkopf, the leading Marschallin of our day. I remember being so
starteled at the first session. The singers of that day were
glamorous even in rehearsal. They wore fancy clothes and jewelry -
they were elegant! You never arrived at rehearsal without being in
your best. Well… in she came! She was wearing a very ‘Hausfrau’
kind of dress, and no makeup – she looked very tired and worn - you
know, nothing that I had thought of as Schwarzkopf – the glamorous
Schwarzkopf! So you know - I was a little disappointed in the
outward part - the package was not so great – but I had a wonderful
opportunity of working with her - seeing how she worked up close,
which was terrific, although she was very cold – who was I to
her?? So… time went by, and it came to the final rehearsal.
Lisa Della Casa had not been coming at all, and they made an
ultimatum: ‘if you don’t come to the final dress rehearsal, Miss
Casei is doing the performance.’ Well, it strikes terror in you – as
well as hope! You never know which one is going to dominate! So I
went to the dress rehearsal, and Della Casa was there. I watched
intently from the house. When Schwarzkopf raised her head off the
pillow in the first act, beautiful in her pristine way, it was
stunning. They were in costume, of course, and I was astonished at
her transformation. She did her own make-up, her own wigs –
everything. She came two hours or more ahead of everybody else.
Nobody was allowed into her dressing room. Lisa Della Casa was an
equal in her fashion as a prima donna and, as I said, really wanted
to be playing the Marschallin herself. They were doing a scene where
she and the maid were bustling around. She was doing this and she
was doing that– and she was stealing every scene she could.
Schwarzpopf became aware that this was going on, so when Della Casa
happened to get close to her, she reached out and grabbed her by the
wrist – and held on tight! I was watching everything these two
ladies were doing, and it was the battle of the year! As I was
covering the role, if anything went too far wrong, I was going to be
up there! What a tussle they had! But things moved along. One of
the most beautiful things I ever saw occurred when the Marschallin
finishes the first monologue and she drops the mirror, and says
‘Time – I sometimes stop the clock.’ – So beautiful the way she did
that. And also in the last act, she had another moment that was
stunning. In her final scene she was standing on the stairway and
she had on this beautiful silver/white wig with a small feather in
it with a diamond quill, and a very beautiful royal purple velvet
cape falling on one shoulder. And she stood there – she must have
payed the lighting man a special something – there was a silver ray
of light – just like moonlight – beautiful! It illuminated all of
her as she made her exit, leaving Sophie and Octavian to themselves
and their new love.”
These reminiscences brought to mind singers of the era just before
her:
“I heard wonderful singers - and they were beautiful! They talk
about singers being fat, and this and that - they weren't. They
were beautiful and they were good actors. This idea that this has
all happened recently- not true! I heard Flagstad and Melchior, and
it wasn't shabby! And Albanese, and Gigli - Butterfly was to
die for! They knew what they were singing about! Blood and guts and
thunder! Drama! During the war years the American singers all came
out - Tucker, Pierce, Rise Stephens, so many of them very fine. Its
very interesting, isn’t it, that HelenTraubel lost her job because
she went into night clubs... but look whats happening now!
Fascinating! Later, Bing brought in directors like Margaret
Webester, and singing actors like Siepi. That first cast of Don
Carlo was unforgettable ! Bjoerling, and Merril, Barbieri,
Hines. The next generation - maybe technically better – but not so
good!”
The inevitable subject of “now,” the Gelb regime, followed:
“I think he's doing wonderful things, opening the house up to a
larger public - filling the house, using film directors, and
television people - its wonderful for TV - or the movie theater,
but, you know, I find that I enjoy them much more on the screen
than I do in the house. – something to think about! There's also a
big problem and they haven't solved it yet. The house needs the
large gesture, the openness, the breadth, and the camera needs
smaller, subtler movements.
‘And the singers?’ I asked:
“ The singers of today are definitely different. They're elegant,
they're refined, they’re analytical. Zinka wasn't any of those
things! Well, of course, there's a certain excitement that’s
lacking. Now its about the sets and things like that - being more
spectacular. One of the things that disturbs be - (I said it to a
friend and he got quite angry with me) - I don't like people leaping
to their feet all the time. I think a standing ovation is a rare and
special event. That's what people do now. At any performance they
leap to their feet at the end. ‘Ah! Bravo! bravo!’ And I don't think
they know what they've heard! I don't think they know whether it was
good or not. That's our big progress! On the other hand, its more
available to more people - maybe there's a correlation between the
two! There used to be a greater number of people who loved opera
passionately, and they read the libretto before they went to the
performance - people who were really lovers of the art form. Today
its - social. Of course its always had a social implication in
America. The wealthy families who had their boxes and wore their
diamonds. Its always had that strata of those who really didn't know
what the singing was about, but it seems to be getting larger.
Views such as these have led Miss Casei into passing on the
tradition she believes in through master classes and private
teaching:
“After 35 years of performing I was invited to be Visiting Professor
at the Aichi Prefectural University of Fine Arts in Japan,
developing their opera program, and working with singers. As time
went on I realized how much one learns from being a teacher. If I
had had that knowledge when I was singing at the Met I would have
been a far finer singer! Having to communicate something to these
students, some who knew a little English, others who knew a little
German or Italian, you had to use your imagination in every kind of
way to get what you wanted from them. I prefer imagery - because
nobody can see a vocal chord - thank God! When I hear some
teachers describing what the vocal chords look like and how they
work I think ‘Oh God! I don’t want to know! I don't even want to
hear about it! ‘ Well - it all has to be done with the
imagination. People get into trouble when they go too much by
theory. The voice is something emotional - emotional, spiritual,
and physical. And you need all those qualities. In master classes
and with private students I see that there is often a certain depth
of emotion lacking. I blame a lot of that on not knowing the
languages. I've had many students, that generally learn
phonetically. When I ask them 'don't you study Italian?’ ’Oh, I
have a diction teacher, and she tells me how to say it!’ I said,
‘Oh, isn’t that great! And when they're saying something do you know
what they're saying back??’ ‘Well, not really!’ I mean they've
learned syllables by rote, and I find that very disturbing.”
Work of various kinds had been a prominent subject in our
conversation: the work of vocal training, of self discipline, of
soul searching, of confronting fear, of producing in spite of a
multitude of obstacles. And what had Nedda Casei received in return?
One reward among many, perhaps the most precious, and certainly the
most mysterious, is the instant when something , a note, a phrase, a
dramatic gesture, is produced and time stops, sometmes for a moment,
sometimes for an entire evening. Music itself seems to speak, and
both the artist and the audience feel its power:
“This might seem strange, but in Camren, at the end of Don
Jose’s flower song there is always tremendous applause. The music,
however, goes on – becomes quiet, and it is almost never heard. In
this case the conductor held up his hand so there was no applause.
Silence… and then I sang ”Non! Tu ne m’aime pas!” No big
notes, no loud notes, but, it cast a great spell. It affected the
dramatic tone of the entire scene. It was one of those magical
happenings.
“ And I also remember the fourth act of Aida. There were
times… “[a sweep of the hand, but no words followed].
“
Also, my final concert. I sang Schumann, Poulenc, and Britten. It
was at the end of my teaching commitment in Japan and they asked me
to do a recital, and in a moment of follia I said yes,of
course I would do it! As it got closer to the date, I realized I
hadn't been singing! This was the second year of my being a
visiting professor, so I hadn't concentrated on my own voice the way
I would if I had been performing, and when it got close to the
concert - I was terrified! I realized I'd have all the teachers
there - all the students! Well - I worked very hard, and in a high
state of nerves I went off to do the concert. Surprise! The
instant I walked on stage the nerves were totally gone! I realized
'these are your friends! These are people you want to sing for!' and
I started singing. Well, I’ve thought a lot about that final
concert… yes… and I made up my mind - I thought to myself – ‘you
know… that’s the best singing you’ve ever done!’ And that’s the way
I finished!” [ A long pause, a serious face, then abrupt laughter].
When she closed her door, and I turned to take the elevator to the
noisy street I thought about the immense gap between the nuts and
bolts of life and the relatively few moments of wonder, and
transport we fragile humans are allowed. Nedda Cassei has a store of
them, won through love, work, disappointment, and many triumphs as
well. They are safe in the past, where no one can take them away.
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