My most treasured memory is knowing that my grandfather, William Fullerton, was one of the founders of the opera house. He and four others successful businessmen formed the corporation in 1877 to raise the money to build the opera house, which cost $23,000 when completed. (He put 10,000 in the pot to get it started). As a consequence, I am on the Central City Opera Board for “historical purposes.”

We were sitting in the front row enjoying Rossini’s Cinderella on July 28th, 1984 when a big hunk of the ceiling toward the back of the Opera House came crashing down with a terrific roar. About the size of a crib mattress, the errant section of ceiling smashed into smaller, less lethal pieces on the railing of the balcony and rained down on the audience members below.

Amazingly enough, except for a scratch or two, there were no injuries. Also amazing was the fact that the line that Robert Orth had just sung was: “Our little comedy will become a tragedy before the curtain descends.” That’s right: He sang those very words and then: WHAM! Immediately, of course, the opera ceased and the house was evacuated. Who knew if more of the ceiling was going to fall?

All of the members of the cast and most of the audience jammed into the Teller House where Orth and Peter Stummer and Gran Wilson proceeded to entertain the crowd with one musical number after another well into the night. A memorable night, indeed.

Lew and Leslie Cady

My family loved to tell of the event, which launched my determination to be a part of the Central City Opera Company, and so I remember it as if it had happened yesterday. My father, mother and I traveled from our small hometown (Wilsonville, NE.) in our!!! New!! 1936 FORD to visit my uncle, Madison Shaw and my aunt, Eldred Shaw who were living in Central City. I had just turned six and had been smitten by the theatre at age five when I won first prize (a silver dollar) singing “I’ll Never Say “Never Again” Again in the annual Amateur Contest held in Wilsonville’s Rainbow Opera House. I looked forward to seeing what was happening in the Central City Opera House.

My uncle had arranged for my mother and aunt to attend an evening performance of The Gondoliers at the Opera House and had tickets for my Daddy to take me to a puppet play in a ramshackle building down at the end of Eureka Street. I stated my wish to go to the “show” at the Opera House. My elders reasoned with me saying it was a show for grownups and the people in it would be walking around the stage wearing long robes and gold crowns and singing in very loud voices AND after the puppet show, your Daddy will take you to a café for ice cream.” I knew a scam when I heard it and declared I had ALWAYS wanted to see living people walking around in robes and crowns and to hear LOUD singing. I lost the argument. Daddy took me to the puppet show, the backstage area caught fire, the audience was hustled onto the street, and the café didn’t even have chocolate ice cream.

The next afternoon my uncle escorted us up Eureka Street to the stage door of the opera house to meet his friend Frank (Pancho) Gates, assistant to the great theatre designer Robert Edmond Jones who had joined the MacFarlances and Anne Evans in restoring the Central City Opera House and imbuing it with new life. A big man wearing work clothes came through the stage door. I am told I said, “Wow! You are a big fella! Where’s your long robe and you gold crown?” He responded, “Well, Cookie…I didn’t know I was going to be meeting you! My uncle explained my disappointment. I do have a memory of responding: “That’s O.K.  Someday I’m going to work in this opera house and hear as much loud singing and see as many gold crowns as I please!” Pancho replied, “Good for you, Cookie! Ask for Pancho when you get here. I’ll be glad to see you.”

From 1936-1952, except for the years of WWII, I visited my family in Central City for a week or so each summer, sometimes sneaking a listen to the operas at one of the side doors of the house, using my uncle’s ticket to a dress rehearsal, or splurging and buying a ticket. In 1953, I took the first step toward keeping my 1935 vow, walking boldly past the backstage doorman, Billy Hamilton, with a casual, “I’m here to see Pancho.” Billy pointed the way with his cane.

And there he was, “the big fella” himself! I reminded him of our 1936 exchange, and asked, “Where do I apply for that job?” Pancho asked, “What’s your specialty?” I replied, “acting and costuming.” He responded, “No actors needed but a head of costumes was another matter. Go talk to that bald guy standing over there in the wings. That’s Bob Brown, the General Manager.” I did and was astonished when Mr. Brown said, “Have dinner with me tonight at the Teller House and we’ll talk about it.” It seems the wardrobe lady, once the alterations were completed and the dress rehearsals over, had declared she was tired of this “opera stuff” and her hours would change to 8 AM-1 PM. She would do ironing and repairs only and go home. She didn’t like sweaty bodies, half naked people, or that terrible, loud music. Bob asked some questions about my experience. It included a good deal of work in the theatre at Colorado Woman’s College and much more work as a theatre major at Northwestern University as well as costuming several productions for a theatre in Evanston. Bob offered me the job starting the next day! Unfortunately, I had a summer commitment. He nearly wept. “Contact me in December about the 1964 season.” I did so and was hired. Incidentally, I was not a union member. The other production areas were unionized but the men accepted me because no Wardrobe Union card holder in Denver wanted to work “as hard as you have to in Central City and drive those roads back and forth to Central City six days a week.” Their loss was my gain.

I had made a vow to work at the opera in 1936 and had chosen to make the history and restoration of the Central City Opera House the subject of a research project at Colorado Woman’s College in 1949. I kept my vow in 1954. Shouldering major responsibilities and working twelve hour days six days a week plus another four hours or so on “dark Monday,” living in a small room in the Teller House which was lighted by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling and had all the amenities of an antique washbasin and pitcher, and an ancient W.C. and old bathtub down the hall for a pittance pay each week me question my sanity at times but the minuses were outweighed by the pluses: the fragrance of the clear air, laughter and meals at the Teller House, “liquid sunshine” as the sun struck the raindrops and lighted the mountains in the afternoon, the starry night skies, picnics and panning for gold, parties in lovely homes, the sound of those wonderful voices singing opera, and grand friendships forged and cherished.

Except for 1955 when the D’Oyly Carte Company brought its own large wardrobe staff and I took on the job as Box Office Manager for what became a sold-out season, I was Head of Wardrobe (Costume Mistress) with a tiny staff for eleven seasons through 1965 and had the great pleasure of working with many of the best singers, conductors, designers, stage directors, and production crews in North America AND I got to play walk-on roles in several opera!!

Once an opera opens, two of the primary responsibilities of a Wardrobe Department are 1) Keeping costumes clean, aired, and pressed and 2) Keeping costumes in repair. Re: 1) Dry cleaning/laundry service didn’t exist in Central City and 24-hour service wasn’t available in Denver until the early ‘60s. As I recall, it wasn’t washtubs in the Costume Room. Talk about “washday hands!” Management did, however, agree to purchasing a steam iron in 1956. The old “steamless” iron served as back-up. (All appliances were understood to be solely for wardrobe use.)

1957 Anecdote: When leaving the theatre, my assistant and I were very careful to close and lock the windows and the costume room door as the backstage door was often left unlocked. We had to discourage members of the company from “borrowing” items and guard against tourist seeking souvenirs. One day we hurried back from a working lunch. Shirts needed to be ironed for the matinee, shoes polished. One of the windows of the costume room was open! We were certain we had closed and locked it. We entered the dressing-room wing of the theatre. The costume room door was ajar! We knew we had locked it! We entered. THE IRONING BOARD AND IRON WERE ALWAYS SET UP FOR USE JUST INSIDE THE DOOR! THEY WERE GONE! It was clear. Someone had forced open the window, filched the ironing board and steam iron, opened the snap lock on the door and fled. We ran outside to look for evidence in the garden bed below the window. Ah! Ha! The thief’s large footprints were detected under the window and a plant was crushed. Obviously the thief was a big man! We looked toward the street. Here came THE BIG THEIF LUGGING THE IRONING BOARD AND FOLLOWED BY A BREATHLESS SMALL CHILD WHO WAS CLUTCHING A STEAM IRON BY IT’S HANDLE. HE was the great baritone Cornell MacNeil, one of our Rigolettos in the 1957 season. SHE was his little daughter Mary who loved to run away from home and visit the costume room. (That’s another story!)

It seems Mac’s wife had gone to a Laundromat in Idaho Springs with over a week of laundry for their family. On her return, she discovered both the iron and ironing board in the house assigned to them broken. Mac said, “She went berserk and started shouting that my shirt and her outfit for the party tonight HAD TO BE IRONE! I came here for help. The costume room was closed. I figured you were gone for that production meeting and lunch. Though, I could get this equipment back before you needed it.” He apologized and said. “I’ll fix the lock on the window.” I told him I would ask one of the stagehands to repair it. I could sympathize with his wife and knew she must still have lots of clothes to iron for the kids. So I offered him the “non steam iron” to use for the afternoon. (Mac was sure he could improvise an ironing board.) The theft set me thinking that Wardrobe needed a back-up steam iron in the event we lost or broke the one we had. The next day I talked Bob Brown into buying a second steam iron and making the one I lent Mac a “loaner iron” for the opera company. It was frequently borrowed and always returned in

The goal of Wardrobe is to discover the need for repairs well in advance of the next Performance. Singers were usually careful to draw our attention to repair needs. Nevertheless, there were almost always repair needs discovered in the last 20 minutes before curtain: “The clasp on my cape isn’t working.” “My suspender just broke.” “The feather on my hat has gone quirky.” “Help! My bustle has gone flat.”

In every cast, there was usually a singer or two- more often men than women- who frequently had repair emergencies at the last minute: buttons came loose, zippers stuck, shoe laces broke, collars, “felt funny,” etc. Joshua Hecht was one such singer. In the 1959 production of Ballad of Baby Doe, his pants split several times about eight minutes before curtain. I would ask: “What were you doing when your pants split this time?” His usual response was: “Just warming up.” I assumed he meant “warming up” his voice, vocal exercises many singers do before going on stage, but without damage to their costumes. I mentioned it to one of the stagehands. He laughed and said: “Oh, Hecht isn’t warming up his voice, he’s warming up with the Saloon girls who do high kicks, squats, and stretches backstage about ten minutes before curtain. I warned Josh that the fabric in his pants was wearing thin from all the repairs and he had better forego the exercises. Five minutes before curtain at his next performance, he rushed into the costume rooms yelling, “My pants split again!” I sent him to the little dressing room in the costume room to strip off his pants, threw them to my assistant, Ginny DeChaine, who was sitting at the sewing machine waiting for last minute emergencies and told her to work her magic. She quickly stitched a patch into them. I threw them back to Josh. He pulled the pants on and ran for the stage. When the scene ended, Josh returned to the costume room and said: “These pants feel strange! They are real stiff and they crackle when I move!” I asked him to change into his next costume and bring the “crackle pants” back to us. He did so. We found the opera program Ginny had been reading at the sewing machine had been sewn inside the crotch of his pants when she made the repair! Ginny swore it was unintentional. Josh ceased “ warm up dancing.”

Two blockbuster operas were selected for the 1960 season: Verdi’s Aida and Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermor, both grand in scale. The productions astonished Central City audiences with the magnificent scenic designs of Robert O’Hearn, the outstanding stage director of Nathaniel Merrill, and the great artistry of Beverly Sills as Aida and Judith Raskin as Lucia. As always Maestro Emerson Buckley reigned over all and inspired/threatened everyone into meeting his high standards/

Three anecdotes from this season are well worth telling:

1) A number of ushers were hired as “extras” to argument the size of the crowd scenes in both operas. They would race from their tour duties to the men’s dressing room and, depending upon the opera, would throw a kilt (Lucia) or the garb of a gladiator or prisoner (Aida) and dash to the stage. I made tow interceptions, one of a kilted Scotsman headed for the triumphal scene in Aida, the other of a scruffy prisoner headed for the Great Hall of the Lammermor’s, the setting of The Mad Scene. The very sight of him would have driven Maestro Buckley mad! Somehow we managed to correct the errors and each breathless usher arrived on stage in proper attire.

2) Judith Raskin’s Mad Scene in Act 3 of Lucia was both heart rendering and frightening. Nat Merrill built on Judy’s marvelous acting ability and asked her to wheel on a group of the wedding guest made up primarily of chorus members and ushers and “Convince them you are mad.” Well she convinced them! In the final dress rehearsal the action was so compelling the wedding guest scattered-some knocking into others, some fleeing the stage. After the Act 3 curtain, Maestro Buckley shouted the company together and threatened them with dire consequences if they ever again re-staged a scene or left the stage before directed to do so. One of the veteran chorus men told me he was never able to overcome the pity he felt for Lucia as Judy portrayed her and always fought back tears.

3) Much to her surprise, Beverly Sills was cast as Aida. In the New York City auditions for the season, Maestro Buckley asked her to sing arias from both operas. As it was known Donizetti was one of her favorite bel canto composers, she assumed the contract she received was for Lucia, signed it, and mailed it back to Buck. A short time later she received a score of Aida. Beverly called Buck and laughing (and Beverly Sills has an infectious laugh) told Buck he had sent her the wrong score that she was singing Lucia not Aida. Buck informed her that her hired her to sing Aida, that he was holding her signed contract in his hand and he expected her to honor it. Beverly honored the contract and performed the role brilliantly despite three major challenges, all related to costume, hair and makeup.

Aida’s costume for Acts I, III, IV was a pale blue-green chiffon gown with fortuna pleating from neck bone to ankle and a narrow cinch at the waist. At that time, Beverly wore a size 16 at most and had a size 12 waist. Fortuna pleating may have flattered Nefertiti but it would make a modern day Twiggy look like a hot air balloon. I called costume designer Bob O’Haern in for a consultation. He agreed it was very unattractive. There was not time to design and build a new costume. What to do? None of the chorus costumes were long enough for her. Beverly came to the rescue. She remembered her Mother (Shirley) had made her a concert gown, which, if she still had it, could be made to work. Quick to the backstage pay telephone. Shirley still had the dress. Yes, she would send it the fastest way possible to the Denver office. A member of the staff drove it up the mountain to Central City. The gown fit and looked fine. O’Heran’s Act II costume looked terrific on Beverly). Then the wig arrived from New York City. It looked dreadful. Nothing better could be found in Denver. Beverly volunteered to use a black hair rinse before each performance and wash it out afterward—a net trick in a small washbasin! A rather dark makeup was necessary to make her pass for Ethiopian. She agrees to use if on her face, neck, arms and hand…”But not on my legs or feet!!!”  I explained that as she was fair skinned and would be wearing sandals, the eyes of the audience would be drawn to her white feet. “NO!” Buckley asked me to persuade her to darken her feet. I tried. “NO!”  I offered to put the makeup on her feet and the lower part of her legs and wash it off for her at the end of the performance. “!NO!!!” Beverly Sills was an excellent colleague: hard working, high standards, delicious sense of humor and she had solved the costume and wig problem. Her friendship was more important than her foot color. End of subject!

On closing night of Aida, I helped Beverly into the lovely costume Bob O’ Hearn had designed for the Act 2 Triumphal Scene, checked on the other principal singers and the chorus and returned to the costume room. As the Stage Manager called, “Five minutes, please!” the costume room door opened and Beverly entered. She thanked me for my help throughout the season and for the good times we had shared, then lifted her skirt and said, “Mimi, JUST FOR YOU!” She had darkened her feet and legs!

My first trip to Central City Opera was when it opened when I was about 12 years old. Although my first opera with my mother was a “light opera” I became a devoted fan of any Central City performance. When I married Dr. Wally Maercklein he loved classical operatic music, but had never attended an opera. I suggested that we try Central City together and purchased tickets to La Traviata and we were both “hooked on” Central City Opera for many years.

Opera Memory: We convinced our good friends to attend Central City and they also were huge fans of Central City performances. We enjoyed attending Central City performances repeatedly-at least four times for each opera! We became well acquainted with the orchestra and for one performance they had each signed the program. When we began down the aisle to our front row seats on one particular evening, all of the orchestra stood up and applauded us. By the way, I still enjoy my front row seats that have been my season tickets for these many, many Central City performances.

Opera Memory: We became acquainted with the manager, Bob Brown. Realizing that Bob needed assistance in picking up cast members from the airport, my husband and I volunteered to help Bob (In those days there was no Guild to help with these volunteer task). On one particular occasion, Bob Brown asked us to pick up a young male cast member at the airport. We arrived before the cast member’s plane had landed. However, a young hostile extremely well dressed woman was in the airport on this blistering hot Denver day. This woman was the lead in the opera and she was extremely angry and irate because no one was there to pick her up. She was venting her anger to us until Bob Brown arrived and he then was the recipient of her rage. Meanwhile, the young man who we were assigned to greet and pick up had arrived to the airport. Bob Brown then convinced my husband and I to also take her to Central City as Bob said, “If I have to escort this women to Central City we may not have a lead for our opera as I may kill her.” So my husband who was the police sergeant for Arapahoe County- and on call that day said, “sure we will give her a ride.” As soon as we all got in the car he got an emergency call to the Littleton County Jail. So, the diva, now frantic, the young male cast member, my husband and I darted to the jail with red lights flashing and sirens blaring. By the time we arrived at the Littleton jail the diva had decided this adventure was a little more acceptable. I even convinced her to change out of her hot formal clothes right there in the Littleton County Jail. She was quite grateful! Once we finally got en route to Central City, we had a wonderful fun-filled trip. In fact, when the diva entertained later the highlight of her party was her tales of the adventure to the Littleton jail complete with lights and sirens.

Opera Memory: We became good friends with Spiro Millas. He enjoyed coming to our residence and enjoying our swimming pool. He often brought other members of the Central City cast with him. In fact, some of our neighbors overhead one of the cast members practicing an aria in our backyard and it was so beautiful that it convinced our neighbors to attend Central City.

Opera Memory: We had the opportunity to attend Aida in La Scala. That year Central City was also performing Aida. Although I admit we were a bit hesitant to see Aida on a small stage after experiencing La Scala- we were so completely enthralled with the Central City performance that we attended every night!!

Opera Memory: Since our seats were on the front row, we had a buds eye view of many details. For instance, we saw the heroine following the male lead across the stage (not part of the correct staging) because the heroines wig was caught in his cufflinks!

Opera Memory: I have had the opportunity to attend operas throughout the world at some of the most famous opera houses. But, Central City has been and is the love of my life.

Opera Memory: Although many things have changed, I now take the opera bus to Central City rather than escorting the cast, I’m still loyal to my front row seats at Central City and always look forward to great performances there.

Dear , oh dears!  

Can you believe it – the workshop is packing up! Because we actually finished what we set out to do, and more!

First of all, Guo Wenjing  dazzled us with his music, especially the final scene. The singers rushed to try out the notes with the pianist, like children trying on new clothes. The  sheets were also snatched up by the librettists, who have been chasing Guo from scene to scene. The director was tickled pink by the great space Guo left him to maneuver, discussing at length with us how to bring out the best visual and dramatic effect. When the costumes were tried on, we knew everything had finally come together.

Like all parties coming to a close, it is difficult to say good-bye to everyone. Martha and Tian’s apartment has been reverted to a normal living room, yet somehow changed by the days of dramatic energy in every corner of the room. Even the computers, the printers, the telephones closed down with a sigh. The driver is waiting, to take us back to our respective continents. Parting is such sweet sorrow!

No matter. In two weeks, the whole team will have the pleasure of working with all of you in Colorado, and that will be an event. Apart from the scores, the parts, the costumes…in short, the hardware that we’ll be bringing to you, we will also be sharing with you what we had learned here in Beijing -  the pleasure of having the poet in our midst, laughing, crying, living to the hilt what life has to offer.

Beijing is a lovely city. Perhaps you’d like to see Li Bai in his home country? Oct. 9th in Beijing and Oct. 18th in Shanghai – see you there!

Exhausted but elated,
Yours from Beijing.

Dear all of Li Bai’s lovers,

It’s been an emotional week since we arrived in Beijing. Forgive us for writing only now.

The singers, both A and B cast have been working every day, morning and afternoon, individually and collectively, with the pianists and assistant conductor, charmed by the music and overwhelmed with the intricacies of it all.

On Tuesday, we had a historic working dinner with the composer, the director, the librettists, the set designer, all six singers, the pianist, the assistant conductor, our resident cinematographer and our administrative assistants. The concept of the text and the music was meticulously explained to all present, for the benefit of the singers, all co-workers, as well as the director who is now plotting every single detail of the opera as a whole.

On Thursday, the whole Beijing team except the composer (who is busily revising the remaining score) met again to run through the first three scenes, with the A cast singing in full voice and expression. It was mesmerizing. Guo’s music painted the physical and emotional landscape with precision, delicacy and panache. Li Bai came alive, buoyed by his two alter egos: Moon and Wine. The director burst out in great enthusiasm and exclaimed: “Finally, China has its own western opera!” He called up the composer to congratulate him, firing him up to put the final touches on an already impressive work. The temperature was near boiling point in the room. All this has been recorded by our cinematographer in a video, and by the team of CCTV who had asked to make a documentary of the whole process.

In the meantime, apart from waiting for the rest of the music with abated breath but great optimism, the libretto is being updated, the synopsis finalized, the available scores transcribed, the costumes fitted, the travel plans followed up…

It is now 13:30 Friday May 18th, 2007. The Beijing apartment has been reconfigured into a stage with four separate entrances, as per the design. The singers have been fed. The camera is ready. The piano has not stopped…In half an hour, the whole team will congregate once more to run through the scenes for the first time for the director and the set designer. There are voices practicing in every room; there is fresh food being prepared in the kitchen around the clock; the driver is poised to pick up the art critics from three major newspapers in Beijing. We are ready for another intensive session of workshop on Poet Li Bai.

We are thinking of all of you doing so much in your respective corner of the earth. We are happy to share with you the wonderful vibes from working with a team full of energy, full of hope, full of dreams!

Missing you all, and wishing you were here,
More later,
Love from,
Diana Liao and all of Li Bai’s lovers in Beijing

Opera Memories: The most memorable praise that I have heard regarding Central City Opera occurred a few years ago and 1580 air miles away! Prudy and I were in Florida, and attending a benefit dinner for the Sarasota Opera. The wine and dinner, combined with our fellow table guests good spirits, resulted in a most pleasant round-the-table conversation, with each guest in turn telling a little about his or herself, and their opera experiences. When it was Prudy’s and my turn, we mentioned where were from, what opera houses that we had visited overseas, and Prudy mentioned that I served as one of the Board Trustees of Central City Opera.

With that comment, the husband of the distinguished looking couple seated next to us, suddenly spoke out. “So you are from Central City Opera. We attended your production of Gloriana in 2001 and it was glorious. In fact, it made our entire season!

Since then, they have become our friends. As a Danish architect and a Danish embassy official and naval officer, they have traveled all over the world, and particularly in the U.S., attending opera festivals. For many years, they visit our Central City Opera festival, on an annual basis. The arts have their own way of building friendships between countries.

James and Prudy Hilger

Mrs. Roy H. Ott
111 Emerson St. Apt. 464
Denver, CO 80218-3779

The year was 1931. My name was Lenore Hays. I was a student at the University of Denver. My major was Speech and Dramatic Arts. I had a student apprenticeship in the registrar office where I was working when the telephone rang. The girl who answered said, “Lenore, it’s for you. You are to go to the Chancellor’s office right away. Don’t stop for anything.”

When I arrived, the chancellor, Dr. Frederick Hunter was sitting at his desk. Miss Anne Evans sat in a chair with arms. I sat down facing both of them. Betty Pollard, a student who worked in the office of the Dean of Women, Miss Gladys Bell came. We were introduced to Miss Evans. Her family had been prominent in many ways. Her father had served as Governor of Colorado. Mt. Evans was named for him. Miss Evans announced, “My family has given the Central City Theater to the University of Denver, I hope you and the Drama Department at the University will give recitals, plays and even an opera. We would all come. We all have summer homes I Central City,” The next morning the headline of the Rocky Mountain News read, “The Evans Family has given the Central City Opera House to the University of Denver.”

It was a decade before Dr. Roger Fee scheduled Summer School classes for students who wanted to study singing opera at the University of Denver and Central City. In 1932, the first opera performed at the Central City Opera House was Camille, with Lillian Gish, a soprano.

My mother had studied singing and encouraged me to have singing lessons and surely to attend the opera would be stimulation. It was made possible for me and my friend, William Rhodes to attend. He drove a Ford Roadster which had a rumble seat. He had earned the money cutting grass. The road was built of dirt. It was dusty as many of Colorado roads were at that time. After the opera, we toured the Teller House. We saw four or five brass gambling objects which had been in use during mining days.

I had worn a pretty dress which was not long but appropriate for a seventeen year old. It was a beautiful evening.

Lenore Hays Ott

Back in the 1940s, before air conditioning became widespread, residents of places like Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas spent as much of their summers as possible in the cool mountains of Colorado.

Which is what brought Ralph and Bettina Coover’s family to Central City from Junction City, Kansas. In 1946, Central City Opera resumed its summer festival after being dark during the war years. “The Victory Festival,” they called it. The Coovers were intrigued and took their four-year-old daughter, Leslie, to see La Traviata. (These days, kids under the age of six aren’t admitted to the Opera House, but that was then.) Leslie sat in the front row with a good view of both orchestra and stage and, even though the four-year-old’s feet didn’t reach the floor, she was thoroughly entranced by the whole opera experience.

The orchestra pit was much higher then, almost at the same level as the audience and the violinists were warm and welcoming to the little girl.
Does she remember that La Traviata? “Oh, yes. I especially loved the party scenes,” she says. And that experience was the start of a lifelong love affair with opera in general and Central City Opera in particular. Indeed, the 2006 season was the 60th anniversary of Leslie’s first visit to the Central City Opera House.

It was the first of many. After last year, Leslie Coover Cady got out the programs and did some counting. The results: She has attended a total of 123 opera productions in Central City—including the last 101 productions in a row.

As the 75th anniversary of Central City Opera rolls around, who can beat Leslie’s 61 years as a fan of Central City Opera? Bill Russell can. When he was 17, his parents took him to Camille, the first production put on by the Central City Opera House Association back in 1932. “It wasn’t the opening night performance, but it was the first show they put on,” he says. Bill, mayor of Central City for many years, is now 92 and still attending opera in Central. Which means that he’s been a fan for the entire existence of Central City Opera—all 75 years.