July 3rd, four years later

Today has a very special meaning for me, for it was on this date in 2006 that Lorraine Hunt Lieberson died after a long struggle with cancer. Lorraine and I had worked together for twenty years. She came to study with me at the behest of a mutual friend and never left. She became a part of my life which I still miss very much.

Lorraine loved to talk on the telephone. She would call me from Japan or Australia or wherever, and talk for a hour, catching me up on what she was doing, often asking for an 'over the phone' voice lesson, and just keeping in touch. She never seemed that far away.


I have all sorts of memories of the roles she sang that we worked on together. Beatrice in Beatrice and Benedict at the Boston Lyric Opera. Lorraine floating across the stage in a diaphanous gown. Carmen at the same venue, when I complained to her about her costume- a leather jacket that made her look bulky; hardly the seductive woman she was portraying. Gatsby, where in rehearsals both her husband and I complained about the dress she wore in the first scene. That one they changed! At the Met, no less.

Her amazing Xerxes, which we worked on the month of September when she was staying up the hill from Rood Hill Farm at a friend's summer home and which we saw in Los Angeles, Boston and New York at City Opera. Steve Wadsworth had done the stage direction and it was flawless.

Her Gatsby at the Met, her début with that company. I attended numerous rehearsals and would take notes for her. At the end of the rehearsal I would go backstage and we would discuss what I had written. Backstage when I met Dawn Upshaw or Jerry Hadley, she would introduce me as her 'teacher'. Not many divas admit that they still study. Unfortunately!


Later when she did Didon in Les Troyens I also attended rehearsals and took notes. When she sang Phaedre of Britten with the NY Philharmonic, we worked together all that week in Mazur's studio in Avery Fisher Hall. She was having back problems by then and had to lie on the floor before going down to the stage for rehearsals. At one point the Assistant Manager of the Philharmonic opened the door to find her stretched out on the floor with me looming over her. We assured him that she was only doing back exercises.


We went down in the elevator with Collin Davis, who was meeting her for the first time. Again she said, 'This is my teacher'. After the piano rehearsal, prior to the full orchestra rehearsal, Sir Collin said to her 'Did you say that this man is your teacher?' She answered in the affirmative. He turned to me, sitting in the front row, and gave the sign of approval with his thumb and index finger. That gesture meant the world to me.


During the rehearsal with the orchestra, after working through the Mozart aria she was also singing, he turned to me, now in row M, and asked about the balance. At first I thought that he must be talking to one of the many assistants who were seated in the audience, but finally decided that he meant me. I said 'When she repeats the A section, she sings it pianissimo and the orchestra is a little heavy. They did it again and he said 'Was that better?' I said 'A little', and they did it again. Here is a conductor who wants the orchestra to balance under the singer, instead of blasting over her.


The last time I worked with Lorraine was in February, 2006, in Boston at the home of one of her dear friends. It was an amazing house with multiple levels. We worked on her role as the Waldtaube in Berlioz's Romeo et Juliette. This was the first time she had sung the role. We spent several days together working on this and other music.


One evening our hostess put on a recording of Eileen Farrell singing the Immolation Scene of Wagner. Lorraine had never heard Farrell before. Then I asked our hostess if she had Farrell's I've got a right to sing the Blues recording. She had it and we listened. I told Lorraine that night that she was one of the few classical singers who could make that transition without sounding silly.


She didn't live long enough to make that come true.


On the morning of July 3, 2006, I emailed Lorraine; something I almost never did.  She just didn't do email.


A got an email back from Peter saying that she had died that morning.


A light had gone out of the world and out of my life. We worked as equals; not as teacher and student. I learned from her and, I think, she learned from me.


July 3rd is a date I will always remember and the wonderful woman who was a part of my life for twenty years.


'Angels ever bright and fair, take, O take me to thy care'


I know that they did.