Music: Old Tenors Never Die

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 (1913-45).

Last week, during the intermission of Alcestis (see below), Tenor Martinelli, 66, was holding court as usual, elegant in evening clothes. He had a lot more to discuss with his friends and courtiers than old times at the Met. A man who still bubbles with force, Martinelli is lifting his voice in public again on TV programs, and having the time of his life. Says Martinelli: “Old tenors never die, they simply fade away.”

After he sang an Italian song, Ideale, on a We the People program several weeks ago (honoring his old rival Caruso), a friend phoned to say, “That was a good record they put on for you last night.” Martinelli took pleasure in setting him straight. “I can sing as well as I ever could,” he insists—although “I would not say I could get through Otello or Aïda now.” Those who heard him sing Ideale were surprised at the ease and quality of the old tenor robusto’s voice. The catch, and the reason for his retirement from the Met in 1945: “It is the heart . . . When one is older, the heart cannot bear the strain and worry and excitement [of the opera stage]. It tells on the voice.” However, he finds TV more pleasure than strain, and after his third appearance as a guest is giving some thought to a program of his own.

A man who reputedly made $2,500,000 in his 35-year singing career, Martinelli lives comfortably in a midtown Manhattan hotel. He coaches a little, currently has high hopes for two of his pupils. His family is scattered: his wife is in Italy to be near their children (one son, two daughters) and grandchildren—including five-month-old Giovanni Martinelli. But Giovanni the elder likes “to be here because of my season. I preserve at least the illusion of not being retired.”