Metropolitan Milestone

At 2 o'clock last Sunday afternoon the crowd started to gather. At 8 o'clock in the evening the house was surrounded. By that time only those who had tickets clasped tightly in hand stood a chance of being admitted to Manhattan's Metropolitan Opera House. Nowhere else in the world was there such a line-up of singers as the one announced for that evening. It included Flagstad, Melchior, Rethberg, Ponselle, Tibbett, Martinelli, Pinza, Crooks, Rothier, Nino Martini. Like the audience, the singers were there for only one purpose: to pay homage to Lucrezia Bori who was singing her farewell on the Metropolitan stage.

In two of the roles which she has made peculiarly her own, Bori said her goodby. First she was Violetta in La Traviata, sacrificing her happiness on the plea of the elder Germont who was Tibbett bewigged. At the end she was graceful Manon, beguiling Tenor Richard Crooks until he gave up all thought of becoming a cleric. With what appeared to be the final curtain the audience was on its feet wildly cheering. But there was more to come. Stage had been set for the garden scene in Traviata. Flowers were everywhere. While members of the company stood by respectfully, Bori received rich tributes. In behalf of 200 friends, Mrs. Vincent Astor gave her a diamond brooch which once belonged to Empress Eugenie. For the Metropolitan Opera Guild Mrs. August Belmont presented a gold traveling clock. The Metropolitan directors gave their usual scroll; the chorus, a silver coffee urn; the stage hands, a silver vase; the orchestra, a plaque. Nothing seemed to please Bori more than when Manager Edward Johnson handed her a silver bowl filled with gladioli "from the great Maestro Arturo Toscanini."

In return there was a kiss for Mrs. Astor, a kiss for Mrs. Belmont, a kiss for Assistant Manager Edward Ziegler, two kisses for Edward Johnson. For the audience there was a tearful little speech. Said she: "It is hard to leave you. I will miss you. Let this not be goodby. I am supremely happy, supremely grateful and supremely satisfied. Let me say au revoir."

Thus at the peak of her popularity did Lucrezia Bori, 48, quit the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House. She announced last December that she would retire at the end of the season, said then that she had planned to leave when she was 45 but had stayed on to help the company over its financial crisis. To many a Bori admirer it seemed incredible that she could be close to 50. Her voice is still fresh. She has been careful of her figure. On the stage she has always appeared as a youthful person, with a rare piquant charm. The patrician quality which has distinguished all her operatic heroines is Bori's own. She was born a Borgia, descendant and namesake of the Renaissance Lucrezia. In Spain it was considered a disgrace for an aristocrat to adopt a stage career. Bori changed her name, made her debut in Italy in 1908. Four years later she was at the Metropolitan singing with Caruso at an opening night.

Bori's career almost ended tragically when she was 27. A throat ailment cost her her voice and she returned to Spain, lived out of doors, burned countless candles to the Virgin Mary, waited for months without attempting to speak. When she returned to the Metropolitan in 1921 she established herself still more strongly with the Opera's subscribers. There was no one to excel her as Manon, Juliette, Melisande, Violetta in La Traviata, Mimi in La Boheme, Fiora in L'Amore del Tre Re.

When Depression threatened the Metropolitan she undertook another role, became chairman of the tin-cup campaign for which she was roundly publicized as "the savior of the opera." As an active worker for the Opera Guild she has continued to drum up trade for the Metropolitan. Last spring as a reward for all her efforts she was appointed to the Metropolitan's board of directors, made a member of the advisory management committee, both of which positions she intends to retain.

Though there were extra performances to be given in Manhattan and out-of-town engagements still to be filled, the Bori gala farewell was the milestone that marked the end of Edward Johnson's first season as Metropolitan manager. Impressive had been the signs of new interest in opera. The audiences had been bigger, more enthusiastic. Financially the Company had done better than it had in four years. What deficit there was the directors kept to themselves. Manager Johnson announced in advance that he felt it necessary to play safe at first, depend on a proven repertory in which Wagner, Verdi and Puccini would predominate (TIME, Dec. 23). He proved as good as his word. Rarely has there been such a conventional season so far as the operas were concerned.

There was not one premiere for critics to praise or deplore. No operas were produced unless all signs pointed to a sure box-office sale.

Experimentation was largely limited to new performers who come cheap compared with new productions. Of the 19 new singers, only two achieved a real success. One was Australia's Marjorie Lawrence, who at 28 and with only three years' opera experience undertook the difficult Bruennhildes in Die Walkuere and Goetterdaem-merung, made news in the latter by mounting her horse, actually galloping from the stage in accordance with Wagner's ambitious directions. The other was Sweden's Gertrud Wettergren, who proved herself a sure singing actress, strode the stage regally as Amneris in Aida, personified devotion when she sang Brangaene in Tristan and Isolde. One of the season's highlights was when Wettergren sang Carmen (in Swedish), her reward for standing by to pinch-hit for Rosa Ponselle. The U. S. soprano worked like a demon to impersonate the Spanish gypsy. Box-officially she succeeded but critics were unimpressed.

The new U. S. contingent of Metropolitan singers was only fair-to-middling. Dusolina Giannini got off to a promising start as Aida but her Norma was withdrawn on the excuse that she was ill. Tenor Charles Kullmann was another who failed to justify a European reputation. Susanne Fisher made a beguiling Madame Butterfly, proved less successful in other leading roles. Newshawks made much of Joseph Bentonelli, who, born Joe Benton of Sayre, Okla., stepped in on 48 hours' notice to substitute for Tenor Richard Crooks, who was too sick to sing in Manon. ''Short Order Joe" Benton saved that one performance but he added little to the Company's prestige.

Critics were patient with the young singers who made their debuts in unimportant roles. But blonde Hilda Burke scarcely rated the chances she had, in spite of the fact that she is married to Stage Director Desire Defrere. Josephine Antoine. pet product of the Juilliard School of Music, was an amateur by oldtime Metropolitan standards. The new American Ballet floundered through the season. The orchestra was somewhat improved, the chorus excellent.

Richard Wagner really did most to make the Metropolitan's season successful. His Tristan und Isolde was the winter's bestseller. His Ring cycle was given twice. There were three calls for Parsifal which did well a few years ago if it paid expenses for the performance on Good Friday afternoon. The young U. S. singers had most of their tryouts in Italian or French. But Manager Johnson knew better than to tamper with the German sector, already the greatest in the world when he inherited it from Gatti. Nowhere else was there such a sure-voiced Wagnerian soprano as Norwegian Kirsten Flagstad, such a heroic Wagnerian tenor as Danish Lauritz Melchior. The two excelled themselves this season. And they had sturdy collaborators in Friedrich Schorr, Ludwig Hofmann, Emanuel List, Gertrude Kappel, Editha Fleischer, Karin Branzell, Eduard Habich, Marek Windheim. Soprano Elisabeth Rethberg was good for both Italian and German roles. Lotte Lehmann's appearances were too infrequent to suit her many admirers.

The Metropolitan Opera Guild did much to create the new interest in opera, with thanks largely due to Mrs. August Belmont, the gracious white-haired lady who was a heroine in Manhattan when she was Actress Eleanor Robson. Of her 2,616 converts some 60% have taken out new subscriptions. Without begging publicly for money she has managed to turn in $50,000 to the Metropolitan boxoffice. Throughout the winter the representatives of the wealthy Juilliard Musical Foundation have kept wisely in the background, let wise Edward Johnson do the talking. A new test comes this spring with a popular-priced supplementary season, one of the Juilliard's stipulations when it provided the financial backlog which assured the season just ended.

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