GIUSEPPE DI STEFANO
TENOR
JULY 24TH, 1921

The golden voice of Giuseppe di Stefano, so admired and hero-worshipped by his tenor successors such as Luciano Pavarotti^[1], and Jose Carreras^[2], was born in the little village of Motte Sant’Anastasia on the outskirts of Catania in Sicily.

His family moved to Milan when Giuseppe was six years old. Here, he spent his formative years, and even for a brief period of time, he considered entering the priesthood whilst he was being educated in a Jesuit College.^[3]

It was during a card game at age 16, when Giuseppe spontaneously burst into song after losing, that his opponent commented that he should get his voice trained. It took two years before his vocal training started in earnest, but his two teachers both baritones Luigi Montesanto and Mariano Stabile instilled in him the importance of clear diction. The clarity these teachers emphasised, became a hallmark of di Stefano’s singing throughout his career. This clear diction combined with the beautiful vocal sweetness, his natural musicality and a generous interpretative style, ensured that di Stefano enraptured fans. As a singer, Di Stefano was admired for his excellent diction, unique timbre, passionate delivery and, in particular, for the sweetness of his soft singing. He was considered the natural successor to Beniamino Gigli, who was Giuseppe’s favourite tenor growing up^[4] .

Fate stepped in once again as di Stefano was drafted into the army during the second world war. His commanding officer declared him the worst soldier ever, but recognised the great singer within him. Not wanting to deprive the world of this great gift, the officer decided he would better serve his country by leaving the forces and singing.This scenario may have been the inspiration, or at least is similar to that in the Mario Lanza film ‘Because You Are Mine,’ where Lanza encounters an opera loving army commander who helps the famous ‘operatic soldier’ sing rather than do his training when he is drafted into the army.

During the war years di Stefano performed under the name of Nino Florio. When Italy was defeated he was able flee to Switzerland. After a period of internment he was eventually allowed to perform on Radio Lausanne. He gave the first of many Nemorinos in l’elisir d’amore in a broadcast from Lausanne. His voice was also captured on recordings with interpretations of his native Sicilian songs which began to arouse the attention of discerning ears from outside of Italy in the late 1940s.

His official debut was in Reggio Emilia in 1946 as Des Grieux in Massenet’s Manon. The following year he repeated the role at the Rome Opera. A major recording contract with EMI was forthcoming.

In 1948 he made his Metropolitan Opera debut as the Duke in Rigoletto, and he subsequently captured the hearts of the Met audience with his beautiful tone, musicality and exuberance in the roles of Faust, Alfredo, Nemorino, Des Grieux and later Cavaradossi and Rodolfo.

In his Metropolitan debut in Faust, he attacked the high C forte and then softened to pianissimo. Sir Rudolf Bing said in his memoirs, “The most spectacular single moment in my observation year had come when I heard his diminuendo on the high C in “Salut! demeure” in Faust: I shall never as long as I live forget the beauty of that sound”.^[5]

His recording with Maria Callas in the 1953 Tosca with Victor de Sabato conducting, has become a benchmark interpretation. The 1955 live recording in Berlin of Lucia di Lammermoor with Herbert von Karajan conducting captured both artists at the peak of their powers.

Ten complete operas with Maria Callas were recorded for EMI between1953 and 1957 and they were the other dream team of the time to rival Renate Tebaldi and Mario Del Monaco on the stage, in fame as celebrities, and in recording sales.

Di Stefano certainly lived life to the fullest. Just as in his roles, he didn’t hold back his generosity, warm-heartedness and zest for life. He was seen as maybe enjoying the finer things of life a little too much, and later his voice lost some of its glory. Di Stefano insisted this was because his vocal cords were being damaged and inflamed due to an allergy to synthetic fibres.^[6]

In later years he lived in Kenya. During an attempted robbery he was badly bloodied, battered and left unconscious by the assailants, as he was defiant in not releasing the medal he wore around his neck given to him by Arturo Toscanini in appreciation for his talent.

“He adored me,” says the tenor without a trace of pomposity. “His supposed rigidity was nonsense. He told me once, ‘I’ll follow you, but you’d better sing well.’ And I did.”

The injuries proved to be far worse than originally thought and despite three operations, being transferred to Milan and eventually waking up from a coma, his health never recovered and he died three months after the attack.

But to help us recover from and dispel this horrible story of the end of such a great man and singer we leave you with a few quotes from the man himself from the LA Times interview of 1988 with Walter Price.

‘Asked which singers he admired, he smiles with a wicked charm that has surely gotten him into trouble in the past and replies, “Only the great ones.”

In the same interview asked if he would retire, he responded, ‘I don’t know. I told you I have never made plans. Del Monaco told me once he would kill himself when he couldn’t sing anymore. I told him I’d kill myself if I couldn’t stop.’^[7]

Grazie Giuseppe!