Beverly Sills with Carol Burnett singing a duet of blues songs which was the finale of Miss Sill's farewell performance in 1980. Sills, the Brooklyn-born opera diva who was a global icon of can-do American culture with her dazzling voice, bubbly personality and management moxie in the arts world, died Monday, July 2, 2007, of cancer, her manager said. She was 78.
| Listen to soprano Beverly Sills There she was on the big screen, the veteran of the opera world reminiscing about life at center stage. But she came across like a grandma rather than a grand dame. It was just last January.
Beverly Sills helped host the Metropolitan Opera's movie-theater relay of "I Puritani," an opera she once starred in. Cheery and plump, she seemed to radiate health. Her deep-red hair -- sustained into her late 70s by what must've been adroit coloring -- lent a glow to the tiny broadcasting booth.
Before the curtain rose on the tale of long-ago Puritans, Sills gave everyone a first-hand view of the opera's heroine -- "this loony lady singing these loony tunes," as Sills described her. Only someone who knew the role from the inside could have said it with such affection. If anyone was cut out to let the rest of us see opera from the inside, Sills -- who died Monday from cancer -- was the one.
As a child, she memorized arias by listening to records. When she was 7, her mother took her to a top voice teacher, and she stuck with the same teacher for 34 years. She made her professional debut when she was 17.
After 20 years of yeoman service -- including a bus-and-truck tour in which she played a Verdi heroine 54 times in 63 days -- she became an overnight sensation. That was in 1966, when the New York City Opera revived George Frideric Handel's "Julius Caesar." To most opera lovers, Handel was unknown territory.
If they thought his works were museum pieces, though, Sills straightened them out. She played Cleopatra, who works her wiles on Caesar and ultimately becomes queen of Egypt. As Sills' silvery tones spilled out, Handel's noble melodies became as full of feeling as the Verdi and Puccini tunes that audiences had always loved.
Sills' agile voice and brilliant high notes made Cleopatra thrilling. And all this came from a plain-talking redhead who grew up in Brooklyn. The word got out, and America loved it.
When the cover of a weekly newsmagazine was a hallmark of celebrity, Sills appeared on Newsweek, her eyes peering out through the stark makeup of Queen Elizabeth I -- whose little-known operatic incarnation gave Sills a triumph. When Johnny Carson's late-night TV show was the gateway into millions of homes, Sills wasn't only a guest; she once stood in for him as host. She did a TV special with Carol Burnett.
She sang with the Muppets. She obviously had fun. But when she was on the opera stage, she went all-out.
In her 40s, which is hardly old for a singer, her voice was already growing unsteady. At 51, she retired from singing. She gave what I think was the key to her outlook during a Charlotte visit in March 1980, a few months before she left the stage.
The Observer's Richard Maschal interviewed her, and she scoffed at the idea of prolonging her career by singing music that let her take it easy. "That's a compromise," Sills said, "and I won't make a compromise with my voice." Sills became City Opera's director -- raising money, taking part in labor negotiations, you name it.
When the company visited Florida in 1988 to inaugurate a Tampa performing-arts center, she made an advance visit to give interviews. Sitting on the center's plaza, with a river running nearby, she talked as amiably to me, a newspaper reporter whose name she may not even have caught, as she did the recent movie-theater audiences. She discussed the challenges and rewards of running a company.
The goal, she said, was the audience: "I just want," Sills said, "to give them a production that's as first-class as we can make it." In a way, that's the key: Sills put art and practicality side-by-side. At center stage, she could deliver opera at its most arresting.
Behind the scenes, she could deal with donors and unions. And she enjoyed letting us into her world. Seeing her onscreen in January, who could have guessed that her time would end so soon?
"The Art of Beverly Sills" (Deutsche Grammophon): This two-CD set showcases Sills in a variety of music, from showy to tender. by George Frideric Handel (RCA Victor): This is the opera that made Sills a star in 1966, recorded a few months after the performances. by Gaetano Donizetti (Deutsche Grammophon): Sills' electricity helped give new life to this fictionalized story of Queen Elizabeth I.
by Jules Massenet (Deutsche Grammophon): The gold-digger title character isn't necessarily admirable, but Sills shows that there's emotion behind the coquettishness. Beverly Sills with Carol Burnett singing a duet of blues songs which was the finale of Miss Sill's farewell performance in 1980.
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