Remembering the World's Best-Known Opera Singer
Luciano Pavarotti in 2005.
Henning Kaiser/AFP/Getty Images
Thirty-two years ago this fall, I was a theater student at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Every now and then, I would try to pick up a few extra credit hours by working on productions at the local arts auditorium, which was on campus. And that's how I met Luciano Pavarotti.
He was just starting to become famous then (or else, to be quite honest, he probably wouldn't have been in Halifax). I can still see him walking down the hall. Huge grin, oozing confidence, dressed with a flair, his fisherman's cap on his head, with a small entourage following behind him. Later, I ended up standing beside him and started up a brief conversation. I told him that my best friend was an opera singer, and when we had roomed together the previous summer while working at a resort hotel, I would wake up many mornings to the sounds of Pavarotti blasting on the stereo. I could tell he was pleased with that news, and he laughed.
It was just one of those brief moments you have with someone famous that don't mean anything to the celebrity but add a little sparkle to life. Sometimes they are fun, sometimes a little weird (one day I'll tell you about being introduced to singer Paul Anka when I was about 8 years old).
I always was a Pavarotti fan after that day. (I'm probably one of the few people who actually went to see Yes, Giorgio.) It's sad to think that he's gone now.
2:46 PM ET | 09- 6-2007 | permalink
