Last week, my phone rang and it was Michael. ‘The tenor is sick, and I may go on.’ I packed my bags and waited for Michael to call.

April 5, 2007

By Harry Musselwhite

Rome News-Tribune

It is around 20 blocks from tenor Michael Hendrick’s New York City apartment to the stage door of the Metropolitan Opera.  The walk takes approximately 30 minutes, and the time spent walking through the hustle and bustle of the Upper West Side is a perfect aerobic activity to wake the body if, say, one needs to spend around 2 and a half serious hours on the stage of the famed opera house.  That is exactly what the young man did a few weeks ago, and I was lucky enough to share the walk from apartment to ancient Greece, theatrically speaking. Michael came to Berry College in the late 1980’s having been a fine trumpet player in his high school years.  He called himself a baritone, but I knew after his first voice lesson that the boy had some undiscovered high notes and a real flair for the dramatic.Michael sang in his first opera al fresco in the middle of Berry’s log cabin campus. The opera was called “Down in the Valley,” and the historic log cabins made a perfect setting for the Appalachian-themed opera. Michael played a passionate convict on the run, and his career choice was set.  After graduating from Berry, the tall tenor did a stint at famed University of Cincinnati’s College-Conservatory and nabbed a couple of degrees and more opera experience.  Most young opera singers find that lean years follow graduate school. One can be very talented, but also lack the experience and aging that opera administrators look for in their casting needs. Michael took temporary jobs and auditioned, auditioned and then auditioned some more.  I first saw Michael professionally at the Santa Fe Opera alongside the great American soprano Sylvia McNair.  He had become a specialist in a number of modern and Slavic operas, and that particular evening, he chewed some scenery for sure.  Along the way, Michael developed his support system, necessary for all young developing artists.  He ignored the naysayers and kept his eyes on the prize.  I soon found myself in the audience at New York City Opera watching Michael dominate a production of Benjamin Britten’s “The Rape of Lucretia.”  I sat that night with Metropolitan Opera baritone Mark Oswald, and we both wondered aloud how soon Michael would make the short trip across Lincoln Center Plaza and sing in the Big House.  It wouldn’t be long.  Infrequently, Michael would make his way back to my studio at Berry College for vocal lessons and each time his voice would be stronger, more elegant and more refined. Michael accepted a contract at the Metropolitan this past November, a cover, or understudy contract — no guarantee of any onstage work, but a foot in the door of the big time.  Last week, my phone rang and it was Michael. “The tenor is sick, and I may go on.”  I packed my bags and waited for Michael to call.  In less than 24 hours, the tenor from Germany who Michael was covering called in to say that he was feeling better and was going on.  Michael went to the opera house the next night and sat in the green room of the opera house and listened as the tenor’s voice worsened and worsened.  An official appeared at the door and motioned to Michael.  That night my phone rang at 11:30 p.m. “I went on,” a breathless Michael said.  The next day, The New York Times proclaimed the LaGrange native as having, “saved the day.”  The Met immediately gave Michael the next full performance, and I sat in the house and watched my young man accomplish the dream that almost every singer of serious music on earth dreams — a solo performance at the Metropolitan Opera.  As we exited the house, flashbulbs popped and autograph seekers urged themselves on the very surprised tenor. We celebrated through the night, and the next morning Michael Hendrick awoke with a significant event attempted and accomplished.  A teacher often works in anonymity.  A teacher has no right to expect anything but the highest behaviors from his or her students. But sometimes, sometimes, the teacher gets to see the seed blossom and bring forth beautiful fruit. Life is good indeed.