Radiosongster

The Evening Standard, London journal, telegraphed to Florence to ask if Mme. Luisa Tetrazzini would sing from London to millions of intuned British radiophiles. The London newspaper also mentioned a few neat words about the remuneration; current rumor said it was the highest fee that she had ever received for a single performance.

Said Mme. Tetrazzini to The Evening Standard, "I shall come, nor shall any obstacle, even the Italian railways, be too great." Forthwith-- that is to say, as soon as her trunks had been packed, accommodations reserved, her voice tested, the servants instructed, telegrams despatched, tickets bought and after a great deal more excitement and fussing had worn the edge off several days-- she set out for the two-day trip to London.

At London, she explained in her inimitable way that she had come "just like that" (she imitated a butterfly with her fat fingers). "Indeed, how could she resist the temptation to sing to her carissimi Inglesi?"

She remembered a night at Covent Garden, 18 years ago. At that time, she had already enjoyed triumphs in Italy, in Mexico, in Buenos Aires, where the enraptured citizens had fired off cannon and drawn her carriage, snowed under with flowers, through the streets. But Covent Garden was the test stronghold of musical recognition and, though she had sung Lucia over 200 times, her large, dimpled knees, she freely admitted, trembled on that night. After the first act, they trembled no longer; for the Inglesi made her appear 20 times before the curtain, clapping her long, and even cheering her in their funny, diffident way. Later that evening, the famed Patti told her: "You have won by merit the crown that I have laid aside."

Facing the microphone last week, her ample form clad in costly fabrics and bedecked with jewels, she sang most appropriately like a nightingale while a vast mass of British, overestimated at 10,000,000, postponed their bedtime story to listen to the sob-strains of The Last Rose of Summer.

The voice of Tetrazzini, not strong but of great resonance, was peculiarly suited to the radio. Her singing was rebroadcasted to all the British stations and was heard by enthusiasts on the Continent. Many vainly hoped that the U. S. coastal stations would pick up the tremoring wave lengths, as they did those of a jazz concert at the Hotel Savoy, London, a few days later.

Oscar Hammerstein, helped by the weather, persuaded Tetrazzini to leave London and come to Manhattan in 1908. It was a wet week in London. Tetrazzini was depressed, idle. Hammerstein had tea with her. She returned with him, sang three successful seasons at the Manhattan Opera House, Manhattan, for which she received $2,500 a performance. She afterwards sang with the Metropolitan, the Boston Opera Company-- "gala seasons" all. Her last U. S. appearance was in Trenton in May, 1921-- a concert with which she ended a prolonged tour. Since, she has sung occasionally here and there, but for the most part lived quietly at her various villas, working at her recently published autobiography.