Celebrity Clipping from Boston Sunday Post, Sun, Feb 25, 1917.

Clipped from US, Massachusetts, Boston, Boston Sunday Post, February 25, 1917

Hhave come since out of business. Hej laughed. In his laugh there is something uncommonly contagious, some-hasthing that says, “Drop your guard,and forget your business and let’s have a good time. “The third,” hewent on, “was Giuhni, a great singer, and nearly as bad an actor as JohnMcCormack 1CONCERT VERSUS OPERAAUniday’lettcnotscr\sent“1rcacLabpan to t ter labl“ !At that I asked him which he preferred, the stage or the concert hall.“Oh, concerts, a hundred times,” he replied. ! has“Why?” I lish“Well, for one thing, because when and you sing a role you are tirst of all t he dutiful servant of the conductor down there in the orchestra pit. When it’s a great conductor you don't mind, and you are sure to learn something.But most of the time it is not a great conductor, and then you get ‘roasted’ by the newspapers, not only for your own faults, but for his.”It certainly didn’t seem so good, from that point of view.He added that Dr. Muck was the greatest conductor lie had sung under.“1 on,cts,enoanwhimaieffcandg uahewhsini— •“f was afraid of him,” he said. “1 gotextasked people beforehand what kind of a man and a musician lie was. They abc said, ‘He is a gentleman and he knows ! tun good singing If you sing well you'H ! isfind yourself in delightful company.’“And it all came true,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye.Well, Dr. Muck was not the only great conductor to approve of McCormack. When he sang in “Don Giovanni” at the Boston Opera House Mr.Felix Weingartner, no inexperienced musician, wanted to kidnap Mr. McCormack and take him to Germany to sing Mozart.Yet Mr. McCormack has sung in opera a good deal, and with a number ofthe most distinguished singers of the day. But the theatre had few illusions for him. “Once I was singing with Nellie Melba, and was dying beautifully, if I do say it, as Romeo. Then what should she do but fall down and land on my instep and say, “Tableau.’Not for mine. ‘To the hot place with “tableau,” ’ I said. ‘Get off me foot.’And then there was John Forsell. Uponmy word, he nearly killed me with his sword when we sang in ‘Don Giovanni* in London. The concert stage is the place for me, and the place, I think, for any artist who wants to do reallygreat and individual things with hisvoice.”His Early CareerdisindencthetostamehatbefnotthereebletrywoHe grew serious. He was talking about his early oareer, and the things that had helped him most in his artistic development. “In the first place,” he said, “understand that there are loads of good voices. I’ve a brother—he’s now a mine-sweeper on the North Sea. He has a beautiful voice, but I think he prefers his job to mine. I recall a fellow in Ireland—his name was Ryan— and he took a low F and a high A-flat. He had a marvellous* voice but he preferred his pitcher of rum. It is brains and purpose and pre-severance that are needed, far more than good voices, of which there are always a plenty.”“I remember when I said 1 wanted to£go to Italy and study. My father said, ‘But John, why go to Italy. Haven't you the beautiful voicg God gave you, and don’t you use it like a lark?’ 1 couldn’t make him see what it meant i to really sing. And indeed, I don’t 1 think I knew myself, except in a gen-i eral way, at that time. 1 don’t believe any man when he starts in knows just how far or in what exact direction he will go. As he goes on he sees farther, and acts according to nature. So I began by singing Irish songs and old-fashioned Italian music. The latter taught me how to use my voice; the former made me acquainted with great music. Few people realize how much there is in the real Irish folk-songs.“Anyhow, I got so I could shig a little bit. But I was fortunate in having some other tips, from people as wise in their way as my Italian teacher was in his. One of them was an old woman, a cook of the college in Sligo. Ireland. I sang there one day, and it all went very well, and lots of peopleTwhofthewhformesor:\ofjussorantofbeeantbythstowiltitlaonsotintknbe;suotlmifo:thlt;gksogr 20C th I . th ha pr wifoheofbeb£dewtliai26tl*complimented me, but. this old woman« • ^ A A t « . A____^ — I \ ^ JIsdlItcame up and said, ‘AH very purty, me lad. and learned indeed, but when you sing why don’t you sing so a body can understand you?” 1 ^Singing in English j ^“Thinking it over, I thought I would m see if I could not learn to sing in my tl own language at least as well and flt; with as much clearness as I tried to h | achieve when I sang for my teacher in h i Italian. I have been trying it ever | tlt; i since, and I’ve done nothing that has i taught me more. I’ll tell you that Eng- j k lish is a beautiful language to sing— awhen you know how.” it1 I could have told Mr. McCormack, In I my turn, that at least a considerable ' ti