February 24, 2014

Una voce per l'eta!: Enrico Caruso – The King of Tenors

Enrico Caruso
Courtesy of The Enrico Caruso Museum
By Niccolò Graffio
“When you speak of tenors you have to divide them into two groups. Caruso is in the first group and all the others are in the second.” – Rosa Ponselle (legendary soprano)
A frequent criticism of mine in previous articles I have written for this blog is the number of our people (and they are legion) who have made their mark on history but who nevertheless are virtual unknowns in the collective minds of the American public.  This is due for a number of reasons including American attitudes towards Italians (especially Southern Italians) as well as the shabby quality of the American educational system.  On the rare occasion one of our people does manage to become famous here, it is usually a gangster like Al Capone or Carlo “Lucky” Luciano.  The American love of criminals and criminality comes into play here.
Despite these hurdles a people as resourceful and creative as ours will rise to the challenge and occasionally produce figures that will nevertheless captivate the imaginations of even Americans.  It has been said you are truly famous (or infamous) when people know you by just one name.  Many of these figures immediately come to mind – Einstein, Newton, Beethoven, Mozart, Shakespeare, etc.  I’m sure if you, dear reader, think about it for a minute you can come up with many more names.
These are people who the powers that be, mainly in the mass media, have seen fit to honor by ensuring (through repeated exposure) the masses of the great unwashed will easily and forever remember them by a single moniker.  Such a person is usually (but not always) someone who has done something so great it is felt, correctly, they are deserving of some kind of immortality in the collective consciousness of mankind.
The aforementioned criminal garbage notwithstanding, one of our people has been deemed worthy of such an honor for his contributions in that area of human endeavor for which our people are known to excel – the world of music!  To call him a singer would be tantamount to referring to the great Shakespeare as a playwright!  The power of his voice plus his surpassing acting skills made him a presence on stage unmatched in his lifetime and for many years to come.  His stage persona was matched offstage by his own larger than life personality.  He has been referred to by more than one historian as the first true superstar in history.  I am referring, of course, to none other than The Great Caruso.
Caruso was born on February 25th, 1873 in Naples, Italy.  The Kingdom of the Two Siciiles had been conquered 13 years earlier by the Piedmontese, who now imposed their language (Italian) upon the locals.  Caruso’s parents, however, decided to baptize their newborn son “Henricus” but called him “Errico” using the Neapolitan language of their forebears.  Though he was the third of seven children he was only one of three to survive infancy.  Caruso’s parents were poor and such high rates of infant mortality were sadly not uncommon in those days among the impoverished of Southern Italy.  There is also historical evidence his father was an alcoholic.
Much confusion surrounds the actual number of children his parents Marcellino and Anna (neè Baldini) Caruso had.  Caruso himself seems to have been the source of some of this confusion.   Caruso’s widow Dorothy penned in a memoir that he had told her he was one of 21 children!  Caruso family friend Guido D’Onofrio, who researched Caruso’s biography, believed the figure of seven to be the correct one.
Self-caricature as Buddha
Photo by New York Scugnizzo
Marcellino Caruso was a mechanic and foundry worker who hoped his son Errico would follow in his footsteps.  Anna Caruso insisted her son attend school and encouraged him to pursue a singing career when he showed promise in a local church choir.  Sadly, she would not live to see her son’s rise to prominence in the music world as she died when he was only 15.  Her death traumatized him but may have inadvertently given him the impetus he needed with his nascent singing career.  To help with family expenses he took various jobs singing at cafes and soirees.  
Though not as destitute as many Neapolitans of the time were the Caruso family was poor, nonetheless.  When Caruso turned 18 he used some of the monies he had earned from singing at a resort to buy for himself his first pair of brand new shoes!  The poverty surrounding him when he grew up would haunt him the rest of his life and play a significant factor in the shaping of his later character and personality.
On March 15th, 1895 at the Teatro Nuovo in Naples Enrico Caruso made his professional stage debut in serious music.  Caruso had changed his first name to the Italian “Enrico” six years earlier at the suggestion of his then-music teacher Guglielmo Vergine.  He appeared in a now-forgotten opera entitled “L’Amico Francesco” by an amateur composer named Domenico Morelli.  His performance was so good that other appearances in a succession of provincial opera houses followed.  In addition, he was given advanced voice instruction by the composer and voice teacher Vincenzo Lombardi.  
During a performance early in his career in his native Naples Caruso was booed by a section of the audience because he failed to pay a “claque” (a group of professional applauders).  This incident hurt his pride and as a result Enrico Caruso vowed never to sing again in Naples.  It was a promise he would keep for the rest of his life.
In spite of this he continued to sing around Italy.  By the beginning of the 20th century his hard work and perseverance paid off – he was awarded a contract to sing at the prestigious Teatro alla Scala, Italy’s premier opera house!  He premiered there on December 26th, 1900 playing the part of Rodolfo in Giacomo Puccini’s “La bohème” with Arturo Toscanini conducting.  A legend has it that when Caruso first auditioned for the part, Toscanini was so impressed the maestro was said to have audibly mumbled “Who sent you to me?  God himself?”
By this time he was placed among first-class Italian opera singers and toured with them to opera companies as far away as St. Petersburg, Russia (where he performed before the Czar himself) and Buenos Aires, Argentina!  
Caruso with phonograph
Courtesy of The Enrico Caruso Museum
Enrico Caruso excelled in many other endeavors besides singing.  He was among the first to recognize the potential lucrativeness of the new technology known as the phonograph.  He signed his first recording contract in April, 1902 with The Gramophone and Typewriter Company.  He recorded 10 arias at the Grand Hotel i Milano over a period of two hours for which he was paid 10 pounds each.  The arias he recorded were released to the public a month later when he made debut at the Covent Garden Opera in Verdi’s “Rigoletto”.  Other opera legends of the time initially rejected offers to record their voices owing to the inferior quality of early discs.  When word spread of financial returns Caruso was reaping however, some of them including highly acclaimed Sicilian soprano Adelina Patti (1843-1919) changed their minds.  It is only because of this we have any idea what some of these greats sounded like!
His later recording of the aria “Vesti la giubba” (It: “Put on the costume”) from Ruggero Leoncavallo’s famous opera “Pagliacci” (“Clowns”) in 1904 was the first record in history to sell at least a million copies.
In 1903 with the help of his friend and banker Pasquale Simonelli he traveled to New York City where he made his debut at the Metropolitan Opera on November 23rd that same year. Over the next 16 seasons he performed a total of 607 times in 37 different operas at “the MET”.  
Caruso became a figure larger than life not only due to his fame but to the force of his highly charismatic personality.  A number of people who met him commented on how whenever he would speak to someone he would give them his full attention.  Caruso avoided critiquing his fellow singers.  If he performed a duet with someone and was asked to comment on it, he would reply “I don’t know – I didn’t hear it.”
He was scrupulous and meticulous in all his dealings.  He was known to bathe and change his clothes several times a day.  He planned his daily routines down to the last detail.  Everything he collected was put in order.  His honesty also was well-known.  Once, he attended a Red Cross benefit for soldiers and sailors at the Manhattan Opera House.  When those in attendance recognized him shouts went up for him to sing “Over There”.  Unbeknownst to the crowd, though, Caruso, who was under contract with the MET, was forbidden to sing publicly except at concerts mentioned in the contract.  
The press of bodies begging him to sing was too great, however, and he acquiesced at last, taking to the stage and singing “Over There” while everyone in the crowd joined in.  After he finished he contacted Giulio Gatti-Casazza, the director of the Metropolitan Opera to inform him he had broken his contract.  He was promptly forgiven.  
If Caruso had two faults the first was his temper, which caused him to have fiery outbursts at the drop of a hat.  Almost always, though, he would apologize and express regret.  The other was his being a “soft touch” when it came to his generosity.  Enrico Caruso was one of the earliest entertainers to achieve a substantial amount of personal wealth.  As a result, many would come to him asking for help of a financial nature.  He was never known to refuse.
With some of the monies he made from his singing career he bought for himself the Villa di Bellosguardo, a palatial estate outside the city of Florence, Italy.  It was here he would retreat when the pressures of travel and fame would become too much for him.  When residing in New York City his preferred address was a suite at the famed Knickerbocker Hotel on the corner of Broadway and 42nd St. in Manhattan.
Though Enrico Caruso’s biography was a genuine “rags to riches” story it was not without scandal.  Several sordid episodes marred an otherwise illustrious career.  In the interests of historical truth and accuracy they should be mentioned!
Enrico Caruso in Leoncavallo's Pagliacci
Courtesy of The Enrico Caruso Museum
Between the years 1897 to 1908 he was known to have been romantically involved with a married soprano, Ada Giachetti, who was several years older than him.  She would bear him four sons, two of whom would survive infancy: Rodolfo Caruso (born 1898) and singer/actor Enrico Caruso Jr. (born 1904).  When Caruso broke up with Giachetti she attempted to sue him for damages but the case was dismissed by the courts.
Another sordid episode that occurred in his life happened in November, 1906 at the Monkey House of New York City’s Central Park Zoo. The zoo was one of Caruso’s favorite retreats in his adopted hometown of New York City.  A married woman alleged he pinched her bottom.  He vociferously denied the allegation, claiming instead one of the monkeys must have done it.  In spite of this, a policeman at the scene arrested him and charged him with an indecent act.  In spite of the fact the woman failed to appear at Caruso’s trial, and it was revealed the arresting officer was best man at her wedding he was found guilty and ordered to pay a fine of $10.  To this day suspicions linger he may have been entrapped by the woman and the officer.  In any event the incident did not appear to have any effect on his popularity with the public.
Perhaps the most infamous episode in his life was his becoming a victim of the notorious Black Hand (It. Mano Nera).  Contrary to popular belief (no doubt fostered by the American media), the Black Hand was not an actual organization but rather an extortion practice.  
It went like this. Gangsters (usually but not always members of the Neapolitan Camorra or Sicilian Cosa Nostra) would single out a potential victim who was almost always an immigrant from Italy. This was done because the gangsters knew these people would be least likely to talk due to language and cultural barriers. The victim would be sent an anonymous letter demanding money and threatening arson, kidnapping, assault or even murder if the victim failed to pay. The letter would be decorated with various threatening symbols including a skull, a smoking gun, etc and almost always signed with a black hand.  The letter would include instructions on where the victim was to drop off the money.
Caruso received a Black Hand letter demanding $2,000 and decided to pay.  When this fact became public knowledge he subsequently received a slew of new Black Hand letters, including another from the original extortionists now demanding $15,000. Realizing he would be paying this criminal scum for the rest of his life he instead decided to go to the police. A “police sting” was set for the racketeers with the help of legendary New York City super-cop Giuseppe “Joe” Petrosino who like Caruso was a native of Naples!  The police captured two local Italian businessmen.  Caruso was never bothered by black handers again.  
Dorothy and Gloria
Courtesy of The Enrico Caruso Museum
One of the brightest spots of Caruso’s life, aside from his illustrious singing career occurred near the end of World War I when he met a young socialite named Dorothy Park Benjamin, the daughter of a wealthy Manhattan patent attorney.  Despite the disapproval of her father (who disdained Caruso for his peasant background and Southern Italian ethnicity) the two dated and eventually wed on August 20th, 1918.  Theirs would be a happy union that produced a daughter, Gloria (1919-1999).  Caruso gave his wife the pet name of “Doro” while she affectionately referred to him as “Rico”.  Dorothy Caruso would live until 1955 and write two biographies about her husband.
Three negative habits Enrico Caruso possessed which undoubtedly played a significant role in his later poor health were his love of smoking Egyptian cigarettes, which he did heavily.  In addition, he never exercised and kept a grueling schedule at the MET.  
One of his favorite hobbies was drawing, and a number of his sketches survive (including self-portraits).  It must be mentioned again a large part of adulation by the public came not just from his astounding singing voice, but his personality as well.  He frequently gave charity concerts, donated large sums of money to the poor and raised millions for the Allied cause during World War I.  He was even known to pay his taxes early, fearing that if he waited something bad might happen to him and then it would be difficult for the government to collect.  
Caruso’s deleterious lifestyle finally began to catch up with him in late 1920 after he concluded a lengthy North American concert tour.  His son Enrico Caruso Jr. reported that during a rendition of “Samson and Delilah” a pillar fell and struck him on the back, just over his left kidney (and not on his chest as the media reported).  The following day he suffered a chill and developed a cough and what he described as “a dull pain in his side.”  
He suffered a throat hemorrhage while performing at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on December 11th, 1920.  His health began to noticeably decline after this and he gave just three more performances at the MET, the last one as Eleazar in Fromental Halevy’s grand opera “La Juive” on December 24th, 1920.  By the next day the pain in his side was so excruciating he kept screaming!  Several doctors examined him before the correct diagnosis was made – purulent pleurisy and empyema.
He subsequently received seven operations including one that removed part of a rib. He traveled to Naples, Italy to recuperate but while there allowed himself to be examined by a local doctor of questionable competency and his health quickly deteriorated after that, probably as a result of developing an infection.
He was scheduled to go to Rome to have surgery for removal of his left kidney when he did an overnight stay at the Hotel Vesuvio in Naples.  He died at 9:00 AM on August 2nd, 1921 at the age of 48.  Physicians in Rome attributed the most likely cause of death to peritonitis that developed from a burst subrenal abscess.
Caruso mausoleum in Naples
Courtesy of The Enrico Caruso Museum
King Vittorio Emanuele III of Italy opened the Royal Basilica of the Church of San Francesco di Paolo for Caruso’s funeral.  Though this was usually only reserved for royalty the King insisted because Enrico Caruso was “The King of Tenors”.  Thousands attended the funeral.  His embalmed body was placed in a glass sarcophagus and displayed at Del Pianto Cemetery in Naples for mourners to view.  In 1929 his wife had his body permanently interred in an ornate stone tomb in his native Naples, Italy.
Enrico Caruso received many honors in his lifetime and subsequent to his death.  Among the most notable of the latter was a postage stamp issued in his honor by the U.S. Postal Service on February 27th, 1987, the same year he was posthumously awarded a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.  Decades after his death his influence on the world of music is still acknowledged.  Gramophone, a prestigious London magazine devoted to Classical music, inducted Enrico Caruso into its Hall of Fame which it launched in its May, 2012 issue.
Further reading:
• Dorothy Caruso: Enrico Caruso – His Life and Death; Grant Press, 2007
• Andrew Farkas and Enrico Caruso Jr.: Enrico Caruso: My Father and My Family (Opera Biographies (Amadeus)); Amadeus Press, 2003
http://enricocarusomuseum.com/