"A Roman of Rome" is what Mr. Giuseppe De Luca has been named. The very
words themselves call up all kinds of enchanting pictures. Sunny Italy
is the natural home of beautiful voices: they are her birthright. Her
blue sky, flowers and olive trees--her old palaces, hoary with age and
romantic story, her fountains and marbles, her wonderful treasures of
art, set her in a world apart, in the popular mind. Everything coming
from Italy has the right to be romantic and artistic. If it happens to
be a voice, it should of necessity be beautiful in quality, rich,
smooth, and well trained.
[Illustration: To Mrs. Harriette Brower cordially Giuseppe De Luca]
While all singers who come from the sunny land cannot boast all these
qualifications, Mr. De Luca, baritone of the Metropolitan Opera House,
New York, can do so. Gifted with a naturally fine organ, he has
cultivated it arduously and to excellent purpose. He began to study in
early youth, became a student of Saint Cecilia in Rome when fifteen
years of age, and made his début at about twenty. He has sung in opera
ever since.
In 1915,--November 25th to be exact--De Luca came to the Metropolitan,
and won instant recognition from critics and public alike. It is said of
him that he earned "this success by earnest and intelligent work.
Painstaking to a degree, there is no detail of his art that he neglects
or slights--so that one hesitates to decide whether he is greater as a
singer or as an actor." Perhaps, however, his most important quality is
his mastery of "_bel canto_"--pure singing--that art which seems to
become constantly rarer on the operatic and concert stage.
"De Luca does such beautiful, finished work; every detail is carefully
thought out until it is as perfect as can be." So remarked a member of
the Metropolitan, and a fellow artist.
Those who have listened to the Roman baritone in the various rôles he
has assumed, have enjoyed his fine voice, his true _bel canto_ style,
and his versatile dramatic skill. He has never disappointed his public,
and more than this, is ever ready to step into the breach should
necessity arise.
A man who has at least a hundred and twenty operas at his tongue's end,
who has been singing in the greatest opera houses of the world for more
than twenty years, will surely have much to tell which can help those
who are farther down the line. If he is willing to do so, can speak the
vernacular, and can spare a brief hour from the rush of constant study
and engagement, a conference will be possible. It was possible, for time
was made for it.