What the World Asks of a Prima Donna

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 596, 23 February 1929, Page 18

What the World Asks of a Prima Donna

AMELITA GALLI-CURCI, WORLD-FAMOUS DIVA, IS BESIEGED WITH QUEER OFFERS FROM QUAINT FOLK

From offers of rare antiques to requests for educational allowances; from the solicitations of authors and composers who want their “masterpieces” exploited, to the pitiful pleas of poor inventors who desire financial hacking for their “wonderful gifts to humanity”—the life of a prima donna is just one attempted touch after another.

How a diva is continually being asked by her public for favours of all kinds is here told by Mine. Amelita Galli-Curci, who has had to make a rule to dispense all her favours through the medium of the organised charities “because promiscuous giving hurts both giver and recipient.”

■ NE afternoon there W'as a commotion in the hall of my suite at the Chicago Hotel, where I was staying. “They are not for Madame,” I heard my maid say firmly. “But thev are addressed to Madame Galli-Curci,” the head of a procession of bellboys retorted. His tone was as positive as hers. From the door of my sitting room I saw packages innumerable being spread out on the floor. They were tied up in newspapers, and none too neatly.

Then a note was brought to me. Reading it only deepened the mystery. My husband entered and I handed it to him. Explanations followed. It seemed that for some time letters, with which he did not bother me, had been coming from a woman who said she needed money, and if I would sell her cast-off clothes for her as my own they would bring better prices than If bought direct from her; so would I sell them?

As no reply to these proposals had been sent, sbe bundled up tbe garments, and there they were, landed in my front hall, enough of them to stock a second-hand clothing business. Doubtless she knew that course would bring some kind of a reply. It did. The clothes were promptly carried back with word that I was not in the old-clothes market.

Many other letters besides the sartorial one have been more direct in the “touching” process. They came from people who had written books and wanted me to have them published; from authors who had written plays and wanted me to put them on the stage; from composers who had penned popular songs and wanted me to get them out; from inventors who wanted financial backing for patents; from painters of precious pictures which they would sell me at precious prices. Nearly always these letters euded with “This would mean nothing to you, only a few hours of singing ” Promiscuous giving hurts both giver and recipient. And none knows this better than the man or woman in public life to whom so many appeals come. To weed out the genuinely deserving would be all right, if such a thing were always possible, but it is not. The organised charity” with its well-formulated methods, is the medium, the only one to my way of thinking, through which to give. For absolute coolness, a letter which I got during my concert tour of the British Isles capped the cli-

max. The writer bluntly declared she had a large family and wanted me to take them to Vancouver. Would I send her the passage money for eight people and money to buy a farm for them to live on when they got there? She closed the letter with the remark, “What would that mean to you? A few hours’ work.” It proved how small would have been her gratitude had I complied. The toil that I had given and still give to my art and the expenses of my tours and concerts were outside her calculations. In Canada, I once received a letter proposing marriage. The writer, a tailor, was evidently ignorant that I had a hu sl>and. He wrote: V ith your money and my talent we could make a fine combination.” I had heard and read of mercenary marriages, but bis way of putting things could, for terne directness, scarcely be improved upon. There is one phase of “touching” the prima donna that is not without pathos-letters from people wishing to sell heirlooms which they fancy priceless, but which would generally be less out of place in a junk shop than in a home. These relics are grandmothers’ shawls, which are always described as “rare”; rieketv violins that have lain neglected in the attic to be brought forth as works of Italian mastercratt. valued up in the thousands; also glass, china and every known kind of “antique” from a perfect Early American chair, with leK solle ’ to a cup from General Washington drank, o£ tnat the owner was assured, though not present at the drinking. All these things and more I would have been allowed to buy.

Not only houses and household goods are listed in my mails, but occasionaly I am offered entire and long-neglected mines, now rising to new usefulness. I once saw one. That day there was no concert, as I

had sung the night before. The <* lying country was said to be romt tic; we drove out to view it. Seeing a gash cut in the earth Walmost overgrown with bushes, asked an old man who had been <w serving us: “What is that?” . , “Fifty years ago it was a nu Df he answered, “and it will be sok again.” “Why did they neglect it for -‘ long?” I asked him, “Because there ain’t nothing - it,” he replied. “Then why work it?” I persisted“To Hud out what they found « when they stopped last time,” answered dryly. .. A prima donna must learn to IF tinguished between high finance the highly financed. I do not cal* career successful w’hen the Pf® 4 donna dies in a garret. Frequently letters come to ■ from young singers who want musical education financed. My fpathy w-ith them is strong, for 1 \ r . known hard experience. My f suffered business losses and to South America to better fortunes: while he was gone 1 ported the family by giving P . lessons. At that time I felt tnat , a voice. I could spare no momv pay a vocal master, so I tram j voice for opera alone unaide ■ got my debut engagement tn . my own exertions. Step by ‘ know what the youug s > u |" fore , i face in making a career. Ine ask that what I say be accept the spirit in which it is givenIt is part of the test in a singers work things out 1 selves. To get things too easw obstacle. It is the strug» ting them that develops the eve rywoman in music, just as it « retiling else. A mediocre talel \ ter jjo* main a mediocre talent no ffl cU ltlI much money is donated to j ration.