Scotti's Jubilee

An emotional scene was witnessed at the Metropolitan Opera House, Manhattan, the other evening. Officially it was a special performance of La Tosca given to celebrate Antonio Scotti's 25th season with the company. Jeritza was Tosca; Fleta, Cavaradossi; and Scotti himself, the villain Scarpia. It was in this role that he sang his first American performance on December 27, 1899.

After the last curtain had fallen to thunderous applause -- applause had thundered all evening--no one in the audience arose to leave. It was understood that speeches and gift presentations would take place. The curtain rose again; and now was seen Scotti in evening clothes, surrounded by all the principals of the Metropolitan Opera Company. An uproar! People shouted, clapped their hands. In the boxes sat two primadonnas who had sung Tosca to Scotti's Scarpia, Geraldine Farrar and Marcella Sembrich. They applauded with memories of many a triumphal performance.

On display were testimonials presented to the baritone: a gold medal from the management of the Metropolitan ; gold and silver loving cups from the Board of Directors, the other artists of the company and music lovers of New York; good wishes engraved on parchment from the Metropolitan Opera and Real Estate Company; a gold match box and cigarette case from the Metropolitan Opera Club. Acting Mayor Hulbert presented a flag of the City of New York.

Then Otto Hermann Kahn, chairman of the Board of Directors, made a speech. Said he: "Instead of addressing you [Scotti] in dry, measured terms, the right way to handle this ceremony would be a pantomime with music, somewhat on the lines of Coq dOr. I ought to stand here going through the motions of making a speech, while lovely voices with lovely music sing an ode to Scotti and lovely women place a laurel wreath upon your 'brow. I throw this out as a suggestion for my successor at your 50-year jubilee."

Scotti bowed appreciatively at this portent of long life and career.

An extraordinary episode was the appearance on the stage of Thomas McDermott, an ice dealer of Jersey City. Mr. McDermott is an opera goer, though not of the Golden Horseshoe variety. For years he has listened to the opera from a seat high in the family circle, where, be it observed, the acoustics are particularly fine. He has heard almost every performance in which Scotti has sung. He began a speech of homage to Scotti, but had spoken only a few words when emotion overcame him, and he could only clasp Scotti's hands.

Flowers rained down and shouts of "bravo" reechoed.

And Scotti? This fellow of wisdom, wit and a sardonic smile, lost his customary poise in this outburst. A look of embarrassment and shyness was on his face, which is of that long, rather gaunt cast seen often in Italians. He bowed and stammered. He spoke a few heavily accented words of appreciation to the audience, and then spread out his arms, signifying that words failed him.

There followed a gala dinner at the Biltmore Hotel. There the Italian Ambassador presented the baritone with the order of San Maurizio and Lazzare, conferred by the King of Italy.