PLACIDO DOMINGO
Placido Domingo, the Spanish tenor, is one of the greatest musicians of our time and, perhaps, of all time. I've come to feel privileged every time I hear him sing. He's reaching the end of a singing career which has spanned over 40 years and, although he will remain active in management and conducting and teaching, I won't have endless opportunities to hear him.
I attended Viva Domingo, a concert which included a single act from three different operas, all fully staged with other wonderful singers. The audience was enthusiastic, the other singers clearly felt great love and respect for this giant figure, I again filled with joy at yet another chance to hear him. At the end of the evening, the general director of the San Francisco Opera presented Domingo with a proclamation from the Mayor, declaring the day Placido Domingo Day. On stage for the presentation were the other singers from the evening, stagehands, the Opera Chorus (which didn't sing that evening) and various others. Following the presentation, Domingo gave a moving response.
He thanked all the people who had helped him, especially his family. He remembered the chorus and stagehands. He said that he would keep singing as long as he could but that if his voice left him at that moment he would have had a wonderful life for which he was grateful. And then he told a story.
He told the story of his first visit to San Francisco in 1962. He came for his first audition with the San Francisco Opera. He arrived a day early and attended a performance in the standing room section and was awed by the size of the house and the quality of the performance. For whatever reason, whether nerves or physical condition, during his audition his voice cracked. He didn't return until 1969, when he was a hit, the beneficiary of universal praise. That set the pattern for every other visit to San Francisco. I thought to myself how hard it must have been to return after the disastrous first audition and what strength of will must have been required to avoid giving up altogether. But I also thought about how hard work, perseverance and talent alone weren't enough to make him a star. For the opportunity to sing in 1969 arose because another tenor was taken ill, with little time to find a replacement.
A man of equal talent who worked just as hard might have failed without the lucky "break". Without luck, even a man of equal character might have failed, might never have found the career which Domingo has enjoyed. But luck doesn't come to those who give up: You can't succeed at something you're not doing. That's the lesson of this story: We can't all be Placido Domingo but we can all keep trying to find whatever is best for us. And if we are lucky, we can all find something meaningful to give to others, even if we can't sing.
June 19, 2000
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