Baritone in the Pea Patch

On the stage of Milan's La Scala one evening last week, Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, mused about the futility of wealth and power. The aria, Oh! de' verd'anni miei, got hearty applause. After the curtain fell on the third act of Verdi's Ernani, barrel-chested Baritone Cornell MacNeil scurried back to his dressing room, where he signed his name to a La Scala option for next season. Then he dispatched a cable to his wife in Cliffside Park, NJ.: "We tore up the pea patch, doll."

At 34, MacNeil is the most promising U.S. baritone to frisk through the operatic pea patch since George London rose to fame. In the last four years, in a series of guest appearances with the Chicago and San Francisco Operas, he has been treated to a steady chorus of critical huzzas. His recording of The Girl of the Golden West (with Tebaldi for London) has been lavishly praised. Currently, he is negotiating a contract with the Metropolitan.

In his La Scala debut last week MacNeil was in typically impressive form: his rich, flexible baritone soared and swelled with enormous power; his acting had about it a quality of vibrant conviction that dominated the stage. Once he moved the house to bravos. Few in the audience realized that MacNeil was there for merely a one-shot appearance, was not given a rehearsal with the cast or orchestra. And few but La Scala's sharpest critical ears detected that MacNeil speaks no Italian, has to learn his roles by rote. Said MacNeil modestly: "There isn't much acting required; it's a kind of stand-there-and-bellow opera."

The son of a Minneapolis dentist, Cornell MacNeil took occasional voice lessons as a boy, later went to trade school and took a wartime job as turret-lathe operator. When he was working around New York, he tried out for roles in a few musicals, met his wife when he was singing in a stock-company production of The Student Prince: "We were sitting on a wardrobe trunk, and it became plain that it would be easier to lean on each other than sit up straight. This led, eventually, to five kids."

MacNeil's first break was his selection by Gian Carlo Menotti for the role of the husband in The Consul. On Menotti's advice, he studied opera seriously for 2 1/2 years while working nights at a Bulova Watch plant making analogue digital computers. With some misgivings, he finally gave up his $200-a-week job with Bulova to become a regular member of the New York City Opera. MacNeil now specializes in Verdian roles, plans at last to learn Italian. "Once," he recalls ruefully, "I was singing Traviata and flung my hand out because the music felt like it. Then I was afraid to pull it back because I didn't know what my lines meant, so I just stood there with my hand stuck out."

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