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Onstage, Callas' thirst for personal acclaim is insatiable. She grabs solo curtain calls whenever she can, even after another singer's big scene. Backstage in Rome. Basso Boris Christoff once seized her with one big paw, forced her to stand still. "Now. Maria," he decreed, "either we all go out there together, or nobody goes out." Tenor Giuseppe Di Stefano says: "I'm never going to sing opera with her again, and that's final." Said a close acquaintance: "The day will come when Maria will have to sing by herself."
Absolutely Luscious. Between rehearsals and curtain calls. Callas is one of the least troublesome of stars. Impresarios who have broken their hearts and their pocketbooks getting her signature do not have to worry about further dickering, and rarely about temperamental outbursts. Callas arrives on time at rehearsals ; at recording sessions she doggedly repeats passages until they are as perfect as possible, gives freely of her full voice and never seems to require any warmup time.
After her success at La Scala, Callas began to lose weight. In three years she dropped from 202 Ibs. to a sleek 135 Ibs. "She got what she wanted, so she stopped overeating," explained an interested doctor. In Milan she began to live the life of the prima donna and to look the part. Milan fondly encouraged her, wined and dined her whenever possible. Her life took on a sybaritic pattern. In the morning she usually sang at the piano on a glassed-in terrace outside her bedroom, polishing current roles. Afternoons, she visited her dressmaker or her beautician, taking treatments worthy of a courtesan: cream, oil and electric massages and rubdowns, face packs and facials of every kind. When shopping, she added to a wardrobe that already included 25 fur coats, 40 suits, 150 pairs of shoes, 200 dresses, at least 300 hats. She never has gloves washed, just tosses them away after a few wearings. For her New York trip, she ordered more than 30 new major items, including five new furs, hired a model to save her the nuisance of fittings. Also on order is a new diamond necklace to add to a collection that includes a magnificent, 150-year-old Venetian collar of diamonds and emeralds, besides more ordinary pieces. At night Callas' favorite rite is to soak leisurely in the bath, steep herself in buckets of cologne, and then (after a careful weigh-in on the bathroom scale) to go to bed "feeling absolutely luscious." Perfumed, glowing and gowned in slinky silk, she lies awake late into the night-studying scores while husband
Meneghini sleeps. Says Callas: "My best hours are in bed, and my best work too, with my dog cuddling beside me and my husband asleep."
Bitter Experience. Meneghini has spent a fortune on her career, but without regrets ("After all, my wife is the greatest singer in the world"). Whenever she goes onstage, he kisses her, utters the customary European good-luck wish, "Merde." He presents her with a bright cluster of expensive jewelry every time she sings a new role, gave her an Alfa Romeo ("If an ordinary artist has a Cadillac, how can I own a Cadillac?"), and a four-storied, $100,000 town house in Milan.