The Legacy of Maria Callas
Maria Callas was the archetypal operatic diva: temperamental, passionate, and very arrogant. Yet, she was able to turn those same self-destructive forces to a greater good: spreading her skill and ability, and the emotions of her music, into the ears and hearts of millions of people. Her attitude was always clear to her fans; many of them, some of whom were obsessed, would cherish her cause even through the scandals and vocal deterioration that marked her later years. To the end, she would always tell everyone that �when it comes to music, we are all students, all our lives� (Ardoin xvii). Her master classes, presented at the Juilliard School of Music in New York during the fall and spring of 1971-2, stated her position most clearly to the new generation of vocalists she was passing her legacy to (Ardoin 371). �It is very serious and difficult work,� she remarked to her students, �it is [done] out of love, a devotion to what you adore. That is the strongest reason for anything� (Juilliard 4). She was the master musician.
In 1923, while Rin Tin Tin, Time magazine and Adolf Hitler were making their famous debuts, Maria Anna Calogeropoulo was born to a struggling Greek immigrant family in New York, four months after they left Greece. Soon after Maria�s birth, her father George changed their last name to Callas to ward off discrimination (Bret 3). Her mother, Evangelia, was a domineering woman who raised her children to the sounds of Bellini, Puccini and interminable voice lessons as they grew up. Maria was continually entered into vocal competitions, even against her wishes. Later, she recalled that �child prodigies never enjoy true childhood�I felt I was loved only when I sang� (Allegri 18). Another handicap that plagued her as she grew older was her weight. She felt uncomfortable with her weight and strove to continually lose weight; as a middle-aged woman, she was accused of suffering anorexia (Galatopoulos 292). The combination of resentment toward her mother, the weight problem and the need for love through singing provoked her ever-increasing need for attention as she entered the world of opera. From this insatiable need would stem hundreds of well-publicized fights with other divas, talented musicians, managers, and most famously, with Aristotle Onassis, the Greek shipping millionaire (Allegri 142, Bret 219).
Maria Callas was most famous for her total immersion into the personas of her roles in all the operas she sang. Many of her performances and interpretations of characters would go on to become the hallmark of those particular roles. Her part as Violetta in Verdi�s work La Traviata, performed in Lisbon in 1958, is seen as the foremost interpretation of the work (Galatopoulos 512). It has been immortalized in Terence McNally�s play The Lisbon Traviata. McNally, a fan of Callas, utilizes the devotion she inspired among the gay community in the play; her music serves as stability and solace for two �Callas Boys�, the nickname for her fiercely protective gay fans (Traviata 35, Bret 93). Her other roles include the namesakes of the operas Norma, Tosca, Lucia di Lammermoor and Aida, each difficult roles with different personalities. She was able to use her often not-so-pure voice to give each one a unique sound.
In 1971, towards the end of her career and her life, Callas was approached by Peter Mennin of the Juilliard School of Music, and invited to give a series of master classes through 1971 and 1972. Previously, in February of 1971, she had agreed to teach at the Curtis Institute of Music. A combination of fear of performing in public after five years of silence and the lack of preparation of the students contributed to the failure of that class. So, initially, she was very wary of the offer and said that �if [Juilliard] wants me, they�ll have to pay!� She also asked for many other amenities including first-class travel, personal maids and chauffeurs, and the service of a top singing coach. Only after these demands were met did she generously waive her payment (Bret 271, 273).
Later, in an interview with the New York Times, she remarked that �opera is really in trouble�and so I have accepted these classes�in order to help singers start off on the right foot� (qtd. in Galatopoulos 371). She truly wanted to help the next generation of singers, even though she still had to convince herself that she could be a truly worthy teacher and example to her students. �[Young singers] now expect to start at the top by making their debuts in the big houses,� she said at one point. �Our [regal I] experience was obtained [through] little theatres and coming up the hard way� (Bret 273). To make her point even clearer, she told an interviewer that �one of my most important objectives is to shape my young singers� thinking � at least plant the right seed � into distinguishing between good and bad tradition� (Galatopoulos 371-2). Her position was optimistic, yet saddened, for during that time, the modern tradition of the operatic soloist - who arrives right before the performance, sings, and leaves right away with their money - was being created. �It�s a way of earning quick money, but when money comes in, art goes out� (Bret 199).
To make her re-entrance into the public eye even harder, several musical celebrities were going to be in attendance. Perhaps the most well known today of those present at the master classes is Placido Domingo, one of the Three Tenors (Allegri 153). Also included in the one thousand plus audience would be the press, who were ready to report Callas� least discomfiture. Her newsworthiness had been proven after her recent detachments from two of her lovers: Aristotle Onassis, by now married to Jackie Kennedy, and an unabashedly homosexual and controversial movie director, Pier Paolo Pasolini (Bret 266).
Terence McNally, in a play titled Master Class, depicts Maria Callas not only as an imperious and witty dictator towards her students, but as a humble and insecure supplicant to the audience and to the music that she serves (Opperman). �Everyone understood what I was talking about when I was singing. They simply didn�t want to listen. Too difficult,� she says in the play. �They said they didn�t like my sound. That wasn�t it. They didn�t like my soul.� In this fictional Juilliard master class, not unlike the reality, Maria tries to explain to her students that to sing well, one has to know the songs inside and out, and more importantly, to hit the highest notes. �I interpolated a high F�that�s all people cared about.� In a later inner dialogue, she reveals her bitterness that she was only known and respected for her voice � it was her sister who was known for her charm and prettiness, and never Maria, the fat and insipid little girl. To the trembling soprano, she regains her composure and tells her that �you�ve got to sing for your supper�. To the master musician, it is again only what you sing that counts, not anything else: �Did you care about [my damp pillow, wet with tears]?� (Master Class 16-7). It should be noted that McNally exaggerates her arrogance during the course of the play; while it was true that she interrupted the students frequently, it was never for frivolous and vain reasons, only purely musical reasons (Galatopoulos 372).
In John Ardoin�s careful transcription of the master classes, one cannot get a complete sense of her personality quirks which one can get through experiencing Master Class. However, all her ideas about music came through clearly - her urge to do whatever the composer wished at the best of her and others� ability, her bar by bar dissection of each aria, her �good tradition� and �bad tradition� � whether by her own eloquence or the editor�s. To most of her singers, she was irate that there were too many singing classifications, meaning no sense of self-reliance and completeness in an individual singer. �It seems today we classify singers according to what they can or cannot [author�s italics] do�but we must all have our high notes and low notes..[our] cantabile..we must have everything� (Ardoin 89). She was very aware of opera�s position in the world, in the sense that it is hard for anyone to accept �anyone singing �I love you� �I hate you��it is out of fashion to sing it�yet we have to ask the public to accept it�create an atmosphere�for understanding� (9). She was trying very hard.
Some of the observers complained that her comments were rather flat, or even painfully obvious. However, from a purely musical perspective, it is perhaps these things which are most important: �Do you know�what you are saying?...then sing what you are saying.� In response to a student who asked how to best interpret a piece, she said, �Love it� (Allegri 153-4). Another comment sounded like the typical music teacher dogma: �often the things you do wrong are the results of bad habits..you become accustomed..and do not hear them, so another must hear them for you� (Ardoin 8). At times, she was also harsh on timidity: �I don�t care if you crack�Caruso [a famous tenor] cracked many times!� (Bret 274).
In 1972, Maria Callas knew her voice was leaving, and she also knew she couldn�t live without it because it had been part of her life for fifty years. Her good friend Giuseppe di Stefano, also at one time her sworn enemy, found her one night in her hotel room, completely broken down: �My voice is gone�I�ll never be able to do it.� After the Juilliard master classes, she had experienced many emotional problems leading to abuse of sleeping pills and pain medication. She felt useless: with her voice leaving, she had no place in opera. Her estrangements from all her old friends and lovers had torn her down even more, so much so that she wrote that �I have no happiness, no friends, only drugs.� The few weeks before her death in 1977 saw a rise in the dose of medicine she took every day until, whether by accident or purposeful intent, she overdosed (Allegri 156, 158).
Callas� role as master musician in the world of opera was further intensified by her death, leaving a legacy the critics were quick to pick up on. After her death, one writer commemorated her by saying that �Maria could have filled any theatre on her own had she not been able to sing a note�there have been more perfect voices, of course, but who having seen Maria Callas in any role can ever really believe in anyone else?� (qtd. in Bret 304). She became even more popular after death not because of the quality of her voice, but for the emotion she continually projected, giving her characters new personas that are now standards for their roles (Celletti). For her students at Juilliard, including John Woods and Shirley Verrett who each eventually got to the international circuit, and for her listening public, she would always be the master musician, a legacy nobody would forget.
Allegri, Renzo and Roberto Allegri. Callas by Callas. New York: Universe Publishing, 1998.
Ardoin, John. Callas at Juilliard: The Master Classes. Portland: Amadeus Press, 1998.
Bret, David. Maria Callas: The Tigress and The Lamb. London: Robson Books, 1997.
Celleti, Rodolfo. �Callas: Arie da Opere�
Galatopoulos, Stelios. Maria Callas: Sacred Monster. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1998.
McNally, Terrence. Master Class. New York: Penguin Books, 1995.
------. The Lisbon Traviata. New York: Dramatists Play Service, Inc., 1986.
Opperman, Michael J. �Master Class�