The Greatest

With time on his hands before donning his Riccardo costume for the night's production of A Masked Ball, Tenor Giuseppe di Stefano was back stage at Philadelphia's Lyric Opera last week, glancing through the program. His eye caught just the kind of thing he was looking for -- "Acclaimed The World's Greatest Tenor" -- but to his in finite horror, there, smiling out above the blurb, was Archrival Franco Corelli. Di Stefano reacted with the cool dignity for which he is famous throughout op era. "I will not sing!" he shouted, grab bing his camel's-hair coat and heading for the door.

Impresario Aurelio Fabiani, who pro motes wrestling when he isn't baby sitting, raced after him, pleading and cajoling. After a long, cooling walk in the streets, Di Stefano agreed to sing --on one condition: the programs must be gathered up and brought to his dressing room. The curtain went up 25 minutes late, and Di Stefano sang nicely, step ping out of character at every hint of applause to bow grandly. The ushers snatched the offending programs back from his dressing room at the final cur tain and passed them out to the departing crowd. Thus those whose ears had not already informed them that Giuseppe is not the peer of Corelli learned it on the way home.

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