Performer for the ages

Luciano Pavarotti was a giant of music in much more than a literal sense, and when I learned of his death Sept. 6 while traveling through New England, memories of his performances in Chicago in the 1970s and '80s came back.

It's unfortunate that Pavarotti is remembered most here for his "firing" by the late Lyric Opera general director Ardis Krainik in 1989, when his cancellations over a several-year period became a major nuisance to longtime subscribers. But Krainik had to do it. By canceling 26 of 41 scheduled performances, Pavarotti was placing the Lyric's reputation and financial health at risk. And, Krainik's decision was praised by opera administrators around the world, because she was the first to say "enough is enough."

But when Pavarotti showed up, he was a performer for the ages. Born in Modena, Italy, in 1935 (where he died and was buried two weeks ago), he was the son of a baker (who happened to be an amateur tenor). From an early age, it was clear Pavarotti was touched with natural vocal gifts not seen in an Italian tenor since Enrico Caruso and Beniamino Gigli from earlier generations.

It's amazing Pavarotti accomplished what he did with only a rudimentary ability to read music. His lyric tenor voice had an assuredness and sheen in the mid to upper register, with special elegance in the bel canto Italian repertoire. This led to his nickname "King of the High C's" following performances while still in his 30s as Tonio in Gaetano Donizetti's "Daughter of the Regiment." That opera has a first-act aria, "Pour mon ame," which not only contains a high C, but nine of them in a row, which Pavarotti was able to hit with ridiculous ease. His international reputation was assured when he recorded the role opposite the legendary Joan Sutherland for Decca-London records in 1968. He then brought this Donizetti high-wire act to the Met in the 1972-73 season.

The 1970s were Pavarotti's prime years, with classic recordings of most of the Puccini tenor roles (Rodolfo, Cavaradossi, Pinkerton and Calaf) for Decca under such conductors as Herbert Von Karajan, Nicola Rescigno and Zubin Mehta. Of course, Calaf's aria "Nessun Dorma!" from "Turandot" became Pavarotti's musical signature throughout his career.

And we can't forget "The Three Tenors," although many purists would as soon do just that. We can also tolerate watching "Yes, Georgio," a dreadful Hollywood romantic comedy, in which the tenor suffers the indignity of a pie in the face. But hey, he gets to sing "Nessun Dorma!" over the credits, so maybe 90 minutes of lame jokes are worth it.

Pavarotti's Lyric Opera career began in 1973, and in the following decade he sang 56 performances of seven of his most famous roles, along with four solo recitals and three concerts, including one at the former Poplar Creek Music Theater in Hoffman Estates.

I enjoyed many of his staged performances, including the Duke in Verdi's "Rigoletto" in 1979, King Gustavo in Verdi's "Un Ballo in Maschera" ("A Masked Ball") in 1980, Nemorino in Donizetti's "L'Elisir d'Amore" ("The Elixir of Love") in 1981, Radames in Verdi's "Aida" in 1983 and a return in "Un Ballo in Maschera" in 1983.

Pavarotti was not a "singing actor" in today's sense, but a phenomenally gifted vocalist whose work in costume harkened back to the early decades of the 20th century when opera stars used minimal stagecraft while singing in front of painted scenery "flats." This was the regional Italian opera world into which Pavarotti was born, and his loyal fans never seemed to mind his limited acting ability. Closing their eyes and hearing that voice was more than enough.

If you have no Pavarotti recordings, I would recommend any of several "highlights" CDs on the Decca label that include "Arias By Verdi and Donizetti," or for complete operas a bargain-priced, nine-CD boxed set of Puccini's "Madama Butterfly," ""La Boheme," "Tosca" and "Turandot."