Day EIGHT: Goodbye Charlie, I'll miss you...
Goodbye Charlie
The opera world lost a great friend recently. Actually, the world lost a great guy.
I met Charles J. Riecker, better known as Charlie, on my first trip to NYC. He was giving a Masterclass for which I signed up. I knew no one in New York and here was smiling Charlie on my first trip out. How lucky was I? I immediately began coaching with him over on Riverside because we hit it off so well and I learned very quickly why. Charlie and I were the odd man out in our families, you see, we both hailed from what we termed “Cop” families. My Father is a cop, and Charlie’s brothers were cops as well. Irish catholic and German Catholic cops reigned in our families with huge personalies just like any opera singer. We both knew what it was to be teased about living the life of opera and we both could easily turn a phrase in “cop lingo” that would make anyone blush and switch right back to talking about Mozart. Charlie, to me, was just a regular guy transplanted into the magical world of opera which made him all the more special.
Charlie and Wally’s apartment was what everyone in the Midwest thinks a New York apartment should look like. Wall to wall books, records and actual paint that was a color other than white on the walls. Beautiful furniture filled the rooms that definitely didn’t come from IKEA and reminders of music graced every corner.
I would warm up in the living room while looking out across the river listening to whatever aria was pouring out of the student before me. After their coaching Mr. Riecker would greet me in the living room with his Irish flare. “Hello deary, and how are we today?” with a huge hug and a smile. How could you not love New York when you got to sing for Charlie. On I would go into the music room where there was a piano filled with pictures of his life at the MET. Sometimes midst singing I would be startled when I saw Freni and Charlie, or Pavarotti and Charlie laughing at a table out of the corner of my eye.
When I was just out of college I went to NYC seeking what I s’pose every singer seeks, “what should I do next?” Charlie gave me advice that I will forever be grateful for. “No matter what, you must learn your craft, study it, take time with it, don’t rush, train like a violinist and then you can have the kind of career that a singer deserves.” Charlie always told it like it is.
I will miss Charlie, New York will never be the same for me or for the many people he has touched. I just hope he knows how much he meant as simply this, a good human being who brought a realness to opera that is rare to see.
Side note for myself:
The last time I saw Charlie was this past June. He knew that I was working on my technique and I was very proud to be able to show him what I had accomplished by studying per his advice. He told me he had nevr hear a singers voice grow as much as mine had. I made the swtich from what I term “ina” roles into Puccini rep. the big stuff. He then said I was too little to sing this stuff but could obviously sing it.
He then grabbed both of my hands and said “You remind me of a young Stratas.” Thank you for that Charlie!! I’ll miss you!!
A wink and a smile!!
The Metropolitan Opera’s New York Times paid death notice reads:
“The Metropolitan Opera mourns the death of our dear friend and colleague Charles Riecker, a valued member of our artistic and technical staffs from 1959 to 1997. A close friend to many of our artists, Charlie will be remembered for his kindness and warmth to all. We extend our sincerest sympathy to his wife, Wally.
Peter Gelb, General Manager
James Levine, Music Director"
The opera world lost a great friend recently. Actually, the world lost a great guy.
I met Charles J. Riecker, better known as Charlie, on my first trip to NYC. He was giving a Masterclass for which I signed up. I knew no one in New York and here was smiling Charlie on my first trip out. How lucky was I? I immediately began coaching with him over on Riverside because we hit it off so well and I learned very quickly why. Charlie and I were the odd man out in our families, you see, we both hailed from what we termed “Cop” families. My Father is a cop, and Charlie’s brothers were cops as well. Irish catholic and German Catholic cops reigned in our families with huge personalies just like any opera singer. We both knew what it was to be teased about living the life of opera and we both could easily turn a phrase in “cop lingo” that would make anyone blush and switch right back to talking about Mozart. Charlie, to me, was just a regular guy transplanted into the magical world of opera which made him all the more special.
Charlie and Wally’s apartment was what everyone in the Midwest thinks a New York apartment should look like. Wall to wall books, records and actual paint that was a color other than white on the walls. Beautiful furniture filled the rooms that definitely didn’t come from IKEA and reminders of music graced every corner.
I would warm up in the living room while looking out across the river listening to whatever aria was pouring out of the student before me. After their coaching Mr. Riecker would greet me in the living room with his Irish flare. “Hello deary, and how are we today?” with a huge hug and a smile. How could you not love New York when you got to sing for Charlie. On I would go into the music room where there was a piano filled with pictures of his life at the MET. Sometimes midst singing I would be startled when I saw Freni and Charlie, or Pavarotti and Charlie laughing at a table out of the corner of my eye.
When I was just out of college I went to NYC seeking what I s’pose every singer seeks, “what should I do next?” Charlie gave me advice that I will forever be grateful for. “No matter what, you must learn your craft, study it, take time with it, don’t rush, train like a violinist and then you can have the kind of career that a singer deserves.” Charlie always told it like it is.
I will miss Charlie, New York will never be the same for me or for the many people he has touched. I just hope he knows how much he meant as simply this, a good human being who brought a realness to opera that is rare to see.
Side note for myself:
The last time I saw Charlie was this past June. He knew that I was working on my technique and I was very proud to be able to show him what I had accomplished by studying per his advice. He told me he had nevr hear a singers voice grow as much as mine had. I made the swtich from what I term “ina” roles into Puccini rep. the big stuff. He then said I was too little to sing this stuff but could obviously sing it.
He then grabbed both of my hands and said “You remind me of a young Stratas.” Thank you for that Charlie!! I’ll miss you!!
A wink and a smile!!
The Metropolitan Opera’s New York Times paid death notice reads:
“The Metropolitan Opera mourns the death of our dear friend and colleague Charles Riecker, a valued member of our artistic and technical staffs from 1959 to 1997. A close friend to many of our artists, Charlie will be remembered for his kindness and warmth to all. We extend our sincerest sympathy to his wife, Wally.
Peter Gelb, General Manager
James Levine, Music Director"
posted by Haley at 10:53 AM
2 Comments:
Haley, I stumbled across your blog the other day and am finding it absolutely fascinating. Your world is so different from mine, yet the style of your writing and tone of your voice carries that winsome human element. Thanks for doing the project, and thanks for writing. I hope you'll keep on.
Charlie, by the way, sounds marvelous.
Wow, Ginger, thank you soo much!!
Like Charlie, I feel like a regular person transplanted into the world of opera. Very different place to be. I'll try my best to keep it up!
Your encouragement sure helps!
Thanks again and have a great week.
haley
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