Coffee with Carlo Bergonzi
mainI met the great tenor once, by chance.
It was late in the year 2000, and I was doing a recce of Verdi’s hangouts in the Parma region, ahead of the centennial year of the composer’s death. Late in the day, we drove into Busseto, the little village where he was born.
Not much to see on a misty November afternoon and nowhere to hang out. The cafe was open and a small knot of seniors were clustered around a table. One of them waved an arm, calling us over. Where from? London. What doing? Verdi pilgrimage. Why? Newspaper article. Big, beaming smile.
‘I am Carlo Bergonzi,’ announced the legend, ordering coffees all round.
He could not stay more than a few minutes as there was a pupil waiting for a lesson, but in those few minutes he offered reminiscences, requested updates on the state of Covent Garden and volunteered a few pearls of vocal wisdom.
Priceless moments, unforgettable.
Carlo Bergonzi died on Friday night, aged 90. 
Lovely tale, Norman, thanks.
Reminded me of the occasion when, a couple of years later, shortly before his death, I met the great Hans Hotter in a Bayreuth bookshop. All those recordings I had [have] of him surged into life. “Nun zäume dein ross reisige maid….”
There’ll never be another H.H. (sigh)
I was not as lucky as you, Norman. My family and I, during a trip to Italy several years ago, stopped in Busseto and stayed one night at Bergonzi’s hotel, I Due Foscari. I had called months before and spoken to his son, who told me that there was a good chance his father would be there at the time of our visit. Sadly, he was not there.
A homage to d’Artagnan: Carlo Bergonzi (1924 – 2014)
http://despreopera.wordpress.com/english-versions/ninety-years-after/
In 1999, Bergonzi was an adjudicator at Cardiff Singer of the World. He gave a masterclass which I attended and unfortunately the lyric tenor assigned to him from the competition dropped out and at the last minute the young Dutch tenor Arnold Bezuyen bravely stepped in. Problem was that Arnold was a Heldentenor and Bergonzi was a bit stumped as to what advice to offer. His discomfort was exacerbated because he was supposed to work through an interpreter, but that idea was hopeless and quickly abandoned. Everyone in the room was hoping that Carlo would show Arnold what he wanted and just sing… which he duly did. Everyone in the room, especially those of us who had arrived after the zenith of Carlo’s career were captivated to have the chance to hear the great Bergonzi in the flesh. And were charmed by his freshness and good humour.