Blog 178 - Marine Musings - Luciano Pavarotti - The Tenor of the Man

The year was 1971. I was at sea on my first ship. In the well furnished Smoke Room, we had a gem - a top-of-the-line Grundig Radiogram and, as the name suggests, it had an all band radio, a gramophone, the ship having been built in the decade before cassette tape recorders.

In the adjacent drawers were hundreds of LPs - long playing records - and EPs - extended play records. Those were the days before digital music. We had music albums and smaller EPs of various types of music, Indian classical, Indian cinema songs, western classical, western country music, jazz. 

I was a connoisseur of Carnatic Classical music and also Tamil songs and used to repeatedly listen to them during the nights, after my watch.

One night, I decided to explore an unknown western musical world. I was very impressed by country music, pop and jazz, not so much by Western classical - Mozart, Chopin. As far as western music was concerned, I had already heard several groups and individuals - the Beatles, Cliff Richard and the Shadows, Shirley Bassey, Nat King Cole, Paul Anka, Jim Reeves, Frank Sinatra.

One day I came across Luciano Pavarotti and was mesmerised by the voice, although I did not understand the words. I spent more than a year on that ship, playing and listening to his records on a regular basis, fascinated by the strength and depth of his voice and his ability to hit the high ‘Cs’ without effort.

Then, I shamefully admit, I lost touch with Luciano as his records were not stocked on the other ships I sailed on.

Then by chance, I saw him as a guest on the Johnny Carson show. The show must have been a re-run - I do not remember exactly when I saw it , maybe 1985 or 1986 - and I remember being entranced by the show. Entranced by Luciano and by what transpired during the show. The events showed the tender heart of the physically huge man, as he was reminded of his humble beginnings, a promise unkept and his recognition of his own fallibility in not paying heed to his own conscience.

Life at sea is unforgiving and does not allow you to dwell inside your memory, be it  a show or your very own personal problems. I forgot.

Decades later, now blissfully retired, I came across the same Johnny Carson show on Facebook, a reproduction of stills with a voice over, and it rekindled the same emotions in me that I had felt 40 years ago.

Emotions of the humility of the man - Luciano - in admitting not only to a live audience of about two thousand, but  also to the millions watching the show live on their television sets, across continents, that he had failed to keep a promise. The emotions of the humanity of the man - Luciano - in waking up to the fact that he had a bounden duty to perform in his life, of which, till then, he had  been remiss.

The background and happenings before the Johnny Carson show

Luciano had just completed a Hollywood movie (“Yes, Giorgio”) and, instead of the smash hit due to his musical fame, it was a downright disaster. Film critics were laughing at him and music critics were appalled that he had stooped to such low levels as to act in a film, saying that he had sold his soul.

It was October 1982 and he was in Los Angeles.

He was in a deep depression. He nearly isolated himself and would not meet others.

Johnny Carson had sent an invitation to him to appear on NBC’s “The Tonight Show”. Luciano had asked his agent to refuse the invite, knowing fully well that he would be the laughing stock of the show, with Johnny Carson preening around. 

His agent was more farsighted and had read the inner persona of Luciano, which was in complete contrast to Hollywood’s version. He instinctively understood that the Johnny Carson Show would do more good for Luciano, enough to bring him out of his depression and persuaded Luciano to attend..

Luciano accepted the invitation from Johnny Carson and arrived a little early for the show. Seated in an auxiliary room with a cup of coffee, he waited to be called to the stage. In the room was a monitor showing the preludes that Johnny Carson went through before the arrival of his guest of the evening. Johnny, as usual, was his charming self, making the audience laugh and listen to him, preparing the way for the show to be a success..

Luciano thought ‘how strange for a man to spend twenty years and every day come out on to the stage to make people laugh. He (Luciano) would never be able to do that’. But Johnny was at his usual best.

An usher approached and led him to the stage. On the way, they passed a grand piano that was part of the musical band or for guests who could play.

Luciano’s eyes lingered on the piano and the usher later told his friends “It was as if he was seeing a long lost friend”.

Johnny had not failed to notice Luciano’s pause at the piano.

Seating his massive frame on to the couch, he was without a smile, as he answered Johnny’s questions listlessly. As Luciano spoke about the movie and described his part in it, the jocular repartees from Johnny refused to lift his spirits and the audience was in a half-laugh, not knowing whether to laugh or to stay silent.

Johnny Carson was a man who could survey a scene, observe a personality and read the undercurents instantly of how his show was doing. He realised that Luciano was still under the throes of his depression, caused by the disastrous movie, and would be a difficult subject to revive, under the circumstances. He needed a prop to revitalise the situation and bring some life into the show.

One of the instruments that is part of the band that plays on the Johnny Carson show was the piano, now lying forlorn with no pianist.

Johnny looked at Luciano and told him gravely “Luciano, see that grand piano over there, nobody has played that piano in a long time. Would you like to play it? Even ‘Chopsticks’ is okay”.

Now, most singers, whether tenors or sopranos, hardly play the piano, preferring professional pianists to accompany them.

But one could see a slight lifting of the slumped shoulders in Luciano and a strange look in his eyes with this offer. Timidly he replied to Johnny “I’ll play, but I know only four or five chords”.

Johnny led him to the piano. Luciano’s demeanour had changed and to people sitting in the front row, it seemed to them that Luciano was walking into a church. For a few minutes, Luciano kept looking at the keys, his thoughts far away. Luciano then slowly lowered his huge posterior on to the stool provided at the piano, which gave a bit.

He told Johnny “I know only four or five chords. But they saved my life”.

Then, tentatively, his fingers moved across the chords that he knew. Slowly he reached a rhythm but one could make out that his movements were not professional or practised. 

He did not play Chopin or other classic maestros, but a simple song that thousands of singers sing at the start of their singing lessons.

But along with the playing, the microphones caught him half singing, half whispering a song, seemingly from a long time ago. He was singing - nearly humming to himself - ‘Caro Mio Ben’, a two hundred year old Italian aria, a short, tender melody being sung to his beloved. He was not singing for the audience, he was singing it for himself. He sang it as if he was singing it for the first time, a little nervously.

The ‘Tonight Show’ band of musicians were the first ones to feel that this playing and singing was not of the ordinary and sensed a deep melancholy behind the performance. Luciano even faltered with one of the keys and found his way back again, making the whole repertoire more human.

After finishing on a slightly louder note, he leaned back with closed eyes for a few seconds.

Nobody had moved throughout the performance. At the end of it was only hushed silence, as each person in the audience, including Johnny, felt that he had seen into the soul of the performer. With tears in their eyes, the applause erupted.

When Luciano slowly turned towards Johnny Carson, he found Johnny with a glint in his eye. Quickly recovering, Johnny asked Luciano what he had meant with his statement that “those five chords saved my life”.

And Luciano hesitantly spent the next ten minutes describing his own life and his extraordinary childhood. He was hesitant because he had never revealed his private and past life to anyone.

He had been born to a cigar factory working mother and a baker father. His father had been a tenor with the local church and would sing every early morning as he mixed the dough. But he lacked the courage to try out for competitions, preferring to sing to the dough.

Luciano spoke. “In 1954, as a 19 year old, in Modena, Italy, I was going to be a shool teacher. Life was tough those days, post war, with no jobs available. Being a school teacher would have made my Mother happy, as it meant a regular job. But I wanted to be a singer - that was my dream and I could not stop singing. I did not want to become lke my Father, singing to the bread every morning. But lessons cost money and I had none. So, I went to a man named Arrigo Pola in Modena, a professional tenor. I sang nervously in his studio, in front of him. And then I told him, ‘Maestro. I want to learn to sing, but I cannot pay, I have no money’. He looked at me for a long time and said ‘Then you shall not pay. Come back and start tomorrow’.

He taught me for free Johnny. For years. The breathing, the voice the Italian style, everything. He never asked me for one lira.”

At this, Luciano slowly moved his fingers over the keys and played a small portion of ‘Caro Mio Ben’. The audience was hushed - not a stir in their midst. Johnny kept absolutely quiet, allowing Luciano to continue.

“I could not afford a professional pianist to accompany me in practice, so Arrigo Pola taught me a few key chords on the piano and told me this will be enough for you to practice with, to keep accompanying you.

So, every night, after school, after work, I would go to a neighbour’s house where there was an out-of-tune piano and play the chords and sing ‘Caro Mio Ben’ again and again till midnight. Those chords saved my life. They made me believe I could sing and be successful if I try hard enough. 

I was 25 and Arrigo Pola was leaving for Japan. I asked him ‘Maestro, how do I ever repay you?’

He told me ‘Luciano, I know that one day you will be famous. At that time, you will come across persons wanting to be singers, but have no money. Teach them, teach them for free. That way, you would have repaid me’ and he left.

Months passed and all my auditions were failures. That is when I told my Father that I am giving up and am going to concentrate on selling insurance. (He had given up his school teacher job to sell insurance a year before). My Father urged me not to give up, unlike him who only sang to the dough.

I kept trying and a few months later, I won a competition and slowly, I became famous. 

Here, in Hollywood everybody criticises the movie and the music world says ‘Pavarotti has forgotten who he is’”. 

Then he looked down at the piano and one could see guilt and a tinge of shame pass through him. 

He continued “Yes, Pavarotti has forgotten who he is. A nineteen year old learning to sing for free and using a neighbour’s piano all the time. I had forgotten Arrigo Pola and the commitment he had wanted from me. Playing these chords at your piano brought back the promise I had made and had forgotten to keep. I, somehow, must keep that promise and keep it for the rest of my life. I am not the one who is on the posters all over Los Angeles. I am the boy who could not pay”.

There was a peculiar look in Johnny Carson’s eyes as he listened to Luciano and he did something odd, never done in his shows. He called into the wings “Rosa, Rosa, are you back there”?

The audience was perplexed and confused.

After a moment, a young woman, short in stature, about 19 years old, wearing the black blazer and grey skirt of the usher, hesitantly stepped on to the stage, terrified.

Johnny said “Folks, this is Rosa Delgado. She is one of the pages at NBC and has been here for about a year.”

“Rosa, come here to the piano”

Then he told Luciano “A few weeks ago, I was passing by one of the make up rooms and I heard a voice singing, a beautiful voice, the kind of voice I had not heard in a long time.. I opened the door and found Rosa inside. I asked her what she was doing and she told me she was arranging things. I told her ‘But you were singing’. She said ‘yes, I go to night school to study and learn singing, as I can’t afford the regular classes in the music college’. Her mother cleans offices and her father is a bus driver. 

When I asked her what she had been singing, she told me it was an old melody that beginners learn. She had been singing Caro Mio Ben.”

Luciano sat absolutely still for a while. Then he looked at Rosa standing red faced and trembling.

He put his hand over his heart and said “Signorina, Rosa, Is it true? You sing Caro Mio Ben”? Rosa just nodded, her tongue dry.

“Then you will sing with me”.

He taught her to breathe deep and other small nuances and asked her to sing. He corrected her twice and slowly she grew in confidence and opened her voice, the voice of a soprano. Luciano accompanied her on the piano and also softly supported her. 

The audience was enraptured. 

At the end, there was no eye without tears, including Johnny Carson, who let, for the first time, the world see that he was as human as the next man. 

The applause was deafening. Luciano, meanwhile, had turned back to the piano and could be heard by those close in saying “Grazie, Maestro”.

Turning to Johnny, he said “I owe you a very deep sense of gratitude for reminding me of my duty to Arrigo Palo. Next year I am going to choose singers with good voices from the poorer sections, send them to the best teachers and make them sing next  to me, in the opera houses of the world.

This will continue for the rest of my life. I owe this debt to Arrigo Palo.

And Signorina Rosa, you will be the first to accompany me”. 

Turning to Johnny Carson, Luciano told him in a dead pan face, “Next time, Johnny, I’ll learn and play ‘Chopsticks’”

And, with the switchboards of the NBC deluged with calls, one call came from Rosa’s mother. She told the operator to tell Rosa that they will not be selling the old piano now, even though they needed the money.

And that was the tenor of the man, Luciano Pavarotti.

Rangan

(All details of the story taken from ‘Facebook’)