Class of the Claqueurs

The opera at Milan's La Scala last week was Verdi's Battle of Legnano, and the principals bore glittering reputations --Soprano Antonietta Stella, Tenor Franco Corelli. But as anxious to please as either of them were the two men posted on either side of the first gallery (the fifth tier). Antonio Carrara, 33, and Carmelo Alabisio, 76, can lay claim to being opera's most successful dispensers of professional applause.

Carrara and Alabisio are the organizers of the La Scala claque. At a time when claques are disappearing from many of the world's opera houses, the La Scala group is one of the best in the house's long history. At a signal, 30 hand-clappers burst into applause, almost always sweeping a large part of the audience with them. Says Carrara: "The claque is absolutely necessary, not only for the artists, but because some operas are so boring that nobody would clap if we didn't boost up the atmosphere."

Duty & Spirit. Although claques are still common in Italian opera houses, none in years have been organized with the same flair and genius for detail. A onetime aspiring singer, Carrara abandoned his career when his money ran out, now works during the day as a salesman, has been claquing evenings for ten years. Alabisio was a top La Scala tenor under Toscanini in the 1920s. Their basic claque (which they can beef up to 40 on important evenings) includes singing students, teachers, music lovers and two barbers. Perhaps the most dedicated is Claqueur Nino Grassi, 60, who has clapped professionally at La Scala since he was ten years old. Carrara and Alabisio attend every La Scala dress rehearsal, talk to the leading singers to find out if they want applause at unexpected places, finally discuss the completed applause script with the conductor to make sure that it will not interrupt his inspiration. (The one person whom even the most skillful claqueur cannot beat is a conductor determined to drown applause with a full orchestra.)

Clapping fees remain surprisingly low --$5 to $7 a night -- because the directors alone are paid, while subordinates clap merely for admission. A certain amount of applause comes free. "Naturally, when an artist pays, we feel like applauding stronger," says Carrara, "but even if he doesn't pay, we still applaud because it is our duty to keep up the atmosphere and spirit of the performance." Most Italian singers approve of the claque, but as a general rule other European singers and Americans resent it. Soprano Leontyne Price has even paid the claque not to applaud.

Boos & Blows. According to Carrara, a particularly important function of his claque is to discipline the amateur fans who applaud for love of music, not money, but who have little knowledge of opera. When he spots amateurs about to start a demonstration, Carrara musters a detachment of claqueurs to drown them out. When Maria Callas sang in Poliuto (TIME, Dec. 19, 1960), a group of Stella's fans booed Callas, were drowned out by the claque and became so enraged that they started a slugging match that sent two combatants to jail. Although the La Scala claque never shouts at or boos a performer, some claques do; at the Teatro Regio in Parma, the local claque decided that it did not like the stringy-voiced tenor, refunded him his money and in subsequent performances all but booed him from the stage.

Visitors to Italy are often puzzled that the claque is disappearing elsewhere but still seems necessary in the very birth place of opera. The explanation, says Carrara, lies in the national temperament : "Italians are too lazy to clap, so we have to help them."

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