At the first table, just inside the door of Sherry's red, Edwardian grand tier bar at the Metropolitan Opera, a distinguished gentleman with a halo of white hair holds court during intermission several nights a week. Old Metgoers and off-duty singers pay him the homage of a word or a bow as they pass. Some of the youngsters recognize him and point him out to less knowing companions; even people who don't know him give him more than a passing glance, sensing that he is "somebody." He is indeed: he is Giovanni Martinelli, one of the great tenors of his day...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
