Friday, August 09, 2002

Should I Be Ill?

For the first time ever, I agree with him.

I hope this isn't a trend.

Tuesday, August 06, 2002

Carpe Diem

Last Saturday D, Mae-Z, and I went to Pascale's Manale for dinner. It's a well-know restaurant in New Orleans and, I suspect, has been living off its past glories for the past few years; it's been around since 1913 and is famous for first coming up with barbecued shrimp. Like Sardi's in New York, it's one of those restaurants that posts signed photographs of the celebrities who've visited it over the years.

Many of the signed faces on the wall are unknown today. It's a mark of the passage of time that you can be the toast of the town today and toast tomorrow. Robin Williams captured it perfectly in "Dead Poet Society" in the scene where the kids look at the photos of the school's past athletic stars while Robin whispers "carpe diem."

One of the photos that caught my attention was of a fellow named Norman Treigle. What caught my attention was his pose (white sweater, looking upward into the light, right hand at his chin) and the photo's caption: "The World Famous Norman Treigle". Ever the smartass, I hooted at that one. Norman who?

You know what? He was world famous.

He was a bass-baritone born in New Orleans in 1927, debuting in the New York City Opera in 1953. He died in New Orleans in 1975 of a drug overdose. According to Loyola University's Alumni website:


In 1953, he first sang with the New York City Opera, as Colline in La Bohème, and, in 1956, scored his first great success as the Reverend Olin Blitch in Susannah. In succeeding years, Treigle became the leading bass-baritone of the Americas and was acclaimed as one of the century's greatest singing actors.

He sang in experimental productions of the standard repertoire, in many important premieres, and excelled in roles evoking villainy and terror. In the fall of 1974, he made his Covent Garden debut in Faust. In February of 1975, at the age of 47, he died suddenly at his New Orleans apartment.

Following the overdue retirement of Sir Rudolf Bing in 1972, the Metropolitan invited him to debut there in a variety of operas; the Teatro alla Scala wanted him for Mefistofele; etc. As Beverly Sills has said, "Norman has never been replaced. Not as my friend and certainly not as an artist. There will never be another one like him. Never. It just won't happen." Leonard Bernstein once wrote to Mr. Treigle: "You are a noble and gallant man, and a great artist." His legacy includes three operas recorded in the studio, several live recordings issued by VAI, and a videocassette of the Revival Scene of Susannah. Without any doubt, Treigle will be remembered as an utterly incomparable actor and singer of an elemental power, who bestrode the stage for too brief a moment.


There's even an opera scholarship in his name.

Carpe diem, indeed.