A Letter from Marilyn Horne

I had written to her asking two questions:

Although she wrote in her autobiography that she admired two singers, she also wrote that their techniques were defective. What did she mean?

Also, could she come to Bergen Community College & appear before a class on famous singers?

Answer No. 1: "They were both, Supervia and Ferrier, extraordinary artists. That is what made them so special. Great powers of expression, but as I said, they had faulty technique, which means that they basically never solved their vocal problems (technically). It really didn't matter because they were able to compensate, each in a special way."

Answer No. 2: Sorry, but too busy.

And she appended a handwritten PS: "Greetings to all in the class!"

A most gracious lady.

Miss Horne

She had married Henry Lewis, conductor of the NJ Symphony, and moved to South Orange, NJ, with her daughter, Angela.

Here’s an excerpt from “Marilyn Horne: My Life”:

“We enrolled her in nursery school and I’ll never forget her first day at the Temple Israel Nursery School in South Orange, the best school around. That it was affiliated with the Jewish temple was no problem for me, but even though she hadn’t been baptized, Angela had been raised in a Christmas-and-Easter way. Could she cope with Rosh Hoshanah and Hanukah? I was silly to worry, of course…. She never asked why she was in a Jewish temple. I guess she just assumed that was the way you started school. Before you could say the Four Questions, Angela had a best friend named Elissa Cohen….
“Every Friday, one little nursery school student was appointed Shabbos girl or boy, and whoever was chosen invited his or her parent to be Shabbos mother. I had that honor, and it was one of my greatest roles. As Shabbos mother, I baked challah and went with Angela to school, where the Sabbath was celebrated with candle-lighting and prayers. I sang many a B’rucha in Temple Israel.”

re Marilyn Horne

from Rebecca Kaplan Boroson • Random Kinds of Blogging
Published: 09 October 2008

The great soprano Marilyn Horne wrote in her autobiography (1983) about an incident that occurred during the time she was studying in Gelsenkirchen, Germany. A bunch of American singers, including a black baritone, were in a café one night “when a group of townfolk came in and drank themselves into advanced loutishness. One of the brutes detached himself, walked over to our table and stood weaving behind the baritone. He flopped his arms around the singer’s chest, gave him a bear hug and announced loudly, ‘You are a black man, but we don’t mind you or your color. It’s the Jews we don’t like!’”

Horne wrote, “That’s all I needed to hear. I jumped up from my seat and proclaimed, ‘Well, I’m Jewish, so get the hell out of here!’”

The drunk quickly returned to his companions, and they left the café.

The baritone took Horne’s outstretched hand.

“Gee,” he said, “I’m really sorry that happened” — adding sincerely, “I didn’t know you were Jewish.”

She wasn’t and isn’t.