Souvenir
THE FIRST LADY OF THE SLIDING SCALE Florence Foster Jenkins was, indeed,
a rare bird. She had the unique ability to delight an audience
to enthusiastic ovations, yet was never blessed with any actual
talent. She tackled the great composers with aplomb and verve,
but seldom sang the actual notes they had committed to paper
and clef. She was all enthusiasm and energy without the gift
of pitch or rhythm. Still, the audiences flocked to hear her
plunge into the classics until, submerged way over her head,
she floundered through the high notes and delicate rhythms,
bringing broad smiles, great laughter and boundless joy to
the cheering crowds. The phenomenon that was her musical career
remains a curiosity to this day.
Florence Foster was born in 1868 in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania,
into a wealthy family. Although music lessons were a typical
part of a young girl’s education at that time, when
Florence expressed a desire to take up a serious music career,
her father forbade it (in favor of the Victorian ideal of
a respectable woman’s place as the keeper of the home).
Asserting her independence, however, she eloped to Philadelphia
with a young doctor named Frank Thornton Jenkins. The marriage
ended in divorce in 1902 and Mrs. Jenkins, having been cut
off from her father’s fortune, was forced to eke out
a living as a teacher and pianist. When her father died in
1909, he left her an inheritance which allowed her to return
to her first love of singing, though certainly not with any
public profile. She became, instead, a benefactor, establishing
the Verdi Club, where she took an active role in producing
musical benefits for various women’s organizations.
Although it is said that she studied voice with professional
opera singers, it was to no avail. Her sense of pitch was
tenuous, her rhythmic abilities almost nonexistent and the
tambour of her voice was thin and reedy, at best. Nonetheless,
in 1912, she began to perform in private recitals for select
audiences and clubs. She would sometimes feature herself in
larger musical events and her reputation began to grow among
the amused listeners. Her mother’s death in 1928 afforded
her the bittersweet freedom to publicly perform to her heart’s
desire and she began to appear at such venues as Sherry’s
on Park Avenue and in an annual recital in the ballroom of
the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in New York City. Though the latter
was given only for an invited audience, word spread quickly
of her unique song styling and the tickets became a hot item,
indeed. Madame Jenkins sold the tickets herself from her private
rooms at the Ritz-Carlton and prospective audience members
were often invited to join her for a glass of sherry after
purchasing their tickets.
Her concerts were an extravaganza of bravura and zeal. She
not only performed everything from Mozart and Strauss to original
compositions (some penned by Madame Jenkins herself), she
also designed the costumes which she wore to color up each
new aria. One of her most famous creations was a costume as
the “Angel of Inspiration,” complete with gilt
wings, satin gown and tulle crown. She often danced, as well,
during the musical interludes of an aria. A sure crowd-pleaser
was her rendition of Joaquin Valverde’s Clavelitos,
in which she appeared in Spanish shawl and mantilla, fluttering
a fan and tossing flowers to her audience from a basket on
her arm (it is said that in a surge of enthusiasm, she once
threw the basket, as well). When the audience roared and demanded
an encore, she would gather the flowers back up from the audience
members so that she could toss them out again in the repeat
performance.
Although audience members derived great glee from the absurdity
of her musical renditions, they were generally careful not
to tip their hands, lest they offend the exuberant diva. When
she would maneuver a particularly excruciating passage or
squawk through an intricate aria well beyond her abilities,
audiences would burst into salvos of applause and whistles
so that the excess noise would drown out their laughter. Madame
Jenkins took their adulation to heart, often stopping to bow
many times before resuming the song or aria. She compared
the reaction at her performances to that received by Frank
Sinatra who often stirred his teenage audiences into frenzy
with his smooth song stylings.
Offers to record her singing followed and, in all, she recorded
nine arias on five 78-rpm records. As one official of the
recording company noted, “Rehearsals, the niceties of
pitch and volume, considerations of acoustics, all were thrust
aside by her with ease and authority. She simply sang and
the disc recorded.” These recordings can be heard today
(and, indeed, are often the centerpiece of parties thrown
by young music students) on three CD’s.*
The pinnacle of Florence Foster Jenkins’ career came
in 1944 when, at the age of 76, she was invited to perform
at Carnegie Hall. Word of her appearance spread quickly and
the concert rapidly sold out – indeed, 2,000 customers
were turned away and tickets were scalped for up to $20 each.
Needless to say, the concert was a triumph, grossing approximately
$6,000. Some critics took the opportunity to attempt to point
at the “emperor’s new clothes,” saying that
“her singing was hopelessly lacking in semblance of
pitch” and that “only Ms. Jenkins has perfected
the art of giving added zest by improvising quarter tones,
either above or below the original notes.” Others, however,
were more kind; Robert Bager of the New York World-Telegram
wrote, “She was exceedingly happy in her work ... And
her happiness was communicated as if by magic to her listeners
… who were stimulated to the point of audible cheering,
even joyous laughter and ecstasy by the inimitable singing.”
Madame Jenkins died one month and one day after her Carnegie
Hall triumph. Some have concluded that it was due to a broken
heart brought on by the harshness of the critical response.
Most believe, however, that she died a happy woman, having
dedicated her life to her passion for music and having shared
her love with so many enthusiastic and dedicated fans.
* The Muse Surmounted: Florence Foster Jenkins and Eleven
of Her Rivals (Homophone Records) – contains only
one Jenkins’ performance, as well as an interview with
her accompanist, Cosme McMoon;
The Glory (????) of the Human Voice (RCA Victor)
– contains eight arias;
Murder on the High C’s (Naxos) – contains
all nine arias.
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