­The operas of Richard Wagner have played a large role in the repertoire of Cincinnati Opera – just not recently. True to its rich German h­eritage, Cincinnati Opera performs in Music Hall, the great auditorium built to house the popular late 19th century Sängerfests in Over-the-Rhine, an area of the city north of Central Parkway. In those days, Central Parkway did not exist, but rather a deep, broad canal flowed there. As the majority of Cincinnati’s German immigrant population lived in the area bounded by the canal and the hills of uptown Cincinnati, the area soon was given its enduring appellation of Over-the-Rhine.

But before the Opera moved to Music Hall, it performed in the wooded wonders and refreshing breezes of the Cincinnati Zoo, high atop Clifton Hill. It was at the Zoo that the vast majority of Wagner’s music dramas were performed. A few statistics may be enlightening. In its 50 years at the Zoo, the company presented 102 performances of 7 of Wagner’s operas over 24 seasons. The years 1926-1940 saw at least one Wagner opera each season, sometimes featuring multiple works in a single season. 1928 and 1929 set records for the most Wagner performances: 12 in each season, with four Wagner operas in 1928 and three in 1929. During the World War II seasons of 1941-1944, no Wagner was performed. In 39 seasons at Music Hall, Wagner’s works had a mere 10 performances of 4 operas over 5 seasons. Perhaps this season’s Meistersinger will begin to rectify that record.

But the operas of Wagner are more than dry statistics, more than wishful thinking. They represent fond memories of real people and real events that happened at Cincinnati Opera. For now, let us indulge in some of these memories.

After 1920’s successful first season, which featured “lighter” operas, grand opera was in demand. In 1921 the first Wagner entered the repertoire with four performances of Lohengrin. Wagnerian operas are quite lengthy (even when cut, as in most Cincinnati performances) and necessitate an early starting time. For Lohengrin, the starting time was moved from 8 p.m. to 7:55 p.m.! Conductor Ralph Lyford insisted on the early start not due to time constraints, but to assure that no noisy late-comers would disturb the radiantly quiet Act I prelude. Curiously, the soloists sang in Italian and the chorus in English. So much for Cincinnati’s German heritage!

At that first Lohengrin performance a technical problem reared its ugly head. Despite the well-rehearsed efforts of the stage crew, Lohengrin’s mechanical swan refused to budge or sail elegantly onto the stage. Extreme force was applied and the recalcitrant bird broke loose and hurtled wildly on to the stage, its head flopping in fearful protest of its rough treatment. The swan’s premature arrival left Lohengrin (Romeo Boscacci) to stride up the river on foot and address his farewell to the swan over the mangled carcass, which remained an embarrassing heap upstage for the rest of the act.

A 1926 Lohengrin suffered another embarrassing moment. The Act III love duet between Lohengrin (Forrest Lamont) and Elsa (Alma Peterson) is dramatically interrupted by an armed attack by the evil Telramund (Fred Patton). Peterson shrieked Elsa’s lines: “Rette dich! Dein Schwert! Dein Schwert!” (Save yourself! The sword! The sword!). Lamont reached for his Schwert but the Schwert was not to be found. The prop man had neglected to place it on stage. Patton was now within striking distance and, having no Schwert, Lamont slugged him, a beautiful right hook, “killing” Telramund instantly.

By 1928, Wagnerian opera was in full-flower with Lohengrin, Tannhäuser, Die Walküre, and Die Meistersinger presented in four consecutive weeks. These first performances of Meistersinger were a mighty undertaking and done with the utmost care and splendor. Stage director Joseph C. Engel, who had studied with Wagner, was brought in to assure authenticity in the production. The size of the orchestra was increased and the May Festival Chorus augmented the regular opera chorus. It was said that 101 people were packed onto the tiny stage. The three sold-out performances were rapturously received, drawing the largest crowds of the season.

Meistersinger’s success was so great that the following season, 1929, an unbelievable six performances were scheduled, and all sold out. Although so incredibly popular, Meistersinger was not seen again until 1983 (a 54-year hiatus) and then not again until this season, an absence of 28 years. Three nights after 1929’s Meistersinger closed, Parsifal entered the Cincinnati repertoire. The three performances began at 5:30 p.m., with an extensive intermission after Act I, from 7:00 to 8:30 p.m. The Clubhouse Restaurant behind the opera pavilion was besieged with requests for dinner reservations. The upper level, with a good view of the stage, was quickly reserved by the glitterati of the city. To accommodate the overflow and the hoi polloi, the lower level, not usually set up to serve dinner, was rearranged for dinner service. The May Festival Chorus—the opera’s unseen heavenly choir—was accommodated in the far upper reaches of the Clubhouse, producing a truly heavenly effect.

While Lohengrin and Tannhäuser remained consistently in the repertoire, it was not until 1949 that Tristan und Isolde was seen. The great Wagnerian singers Frederick Jagel and Astrid Varnay were the ill-fated lovers. Varnay had already appeared here as Elisabeth in Tannhäuser and performed both Elsa and Ortrud in consecutive performances of Lohengrin in 1948. Along with her Isolde, Varnay repeated her triumphant Ortrud and added Richard Strauss’s Salome to her repertoire. In 1951, Varnay made her debut at the newly re-established Wagner Festspiele in Bayreuth and remained a mainstay with the festival for 17 consecutive seasons, singing all of the major Wagner soprano roles. Cincinnati heard her before Bayreuth!

After these heights of popularity, Wagner then languished in Cincinnati until 1961. With the scenically compelling “New Look” of 1959 came new repertoire, including another Wagner opera, Das Rheingold. The strikingly inventive production designed by Wolfgang Roth and staged by Dino Yannopoulos was intended as the first production in a complete Ring cycle to be performed separately over the next three years, culminating in a complete Ring in 1965. The unit set was inspired by the abstract designs of Wieland Wagner’s “New Bayreuth”: broken sharp-edged rocks gradually assembled throughout Rheingold into a gigantic stage-filling ring leading to the rainbow bridge into Valhalla for an impressive finale. The set’s component parts could be re-arranged for use in the other operas of the Ring, the complete ring gradually breaking apart throughout the cycle to be whole again at the end of Götterdämmerung. But this gigantic undertaking was not to be fulfilled. An over-ambitious 1961 season led to financial disaster and the Ring project was scrapped, never to become a reality.

1961 was also significant for the debut of the then-unknown tenor James King as The Tenor/Bacchus in Ariadne auf Naxos. King would soon establish himself as one of the leading Wagnerian Heldentenors, also becoming a mainstay at Bayreuth. King only returned to Cincinnati once, as Radames in 1973’s Aida.

The Flying Dutchman did not sail into the port of Cincinnati until 1975. The short-lived Mexican bass-baritone Guillermo Sarabia sang the beleaguered Dutchman. Soprano Joanna Meier made a sensational debut as the romantic Senta. Veteran William Wilderman’s Daland was much admired. Returning to the opera podium for the first time since 1948 was Cincinnati Symphony Music Director Emeritus Max Rudolf for an echt Wagnerian performance.

Die Walküre returned to Cincinnati on July 26, 1978, just one day less than 50 years since its last performance. The impressive cast was almost all American. Noel Jan Tyl had a huge bass-baritone voice encased in an equally huge body. Tyl stood six foot six and could dominate any stage just by his sheer physical presence. When the curtain rose on Act II there was the giant Tyl in full gown and beard as Wotan, his massive spear held high as he majestically commanded Brünnhilde, “Nun zäume dein Ross, resige Magd!” (Now bridle your steer, warfaring maid!). A gasp from the audience was heard.

For the 1981 season a new production of Das Rheingold was announced. Perhaps another attempt at a complete Ring?! To add to the excitement, a direct descendent of Wagner had been engaged as stage director, the composer’s great-grandson, Gottfried Wagner. However…just before the season opened, a discreet announcement was made: Gottfried Wagner had been replaced by Klas Liljefors from the Royal Opera, Stockholm. The official explanation of the change was “sudden illness.” But rumors circulated that Gottfried’s designs—for Nibelungs in overalls with lighted mining helmets, giants that were puppets, and all sorts of fantastic imagery—were “too much” for Cincinnati, so a more conservative director was called in. Liljefors fielded a dreamily romantic-looking production with super-Wagnerians Leif Roar as Wotan and Ticho Parly as Loge.

The opening night of Rheingold produced a truly “magical” moment: Wotan lost the magic Ring! As Roar tore the Ring off Alberich’s hand (Andrew Foldi), the Ring got away and sailed into the orchestra pit. Roar calmly, solemnly placed the non-existent Ring on his finger, leaving Foldi to curse not “Der Ring,” but Roar’s bare hand. A few minutes later the Ring “magically” reappeared on stage. Retrieved from the orchestra pit, it was entrusted to Tom Fox (Donner), who, on his next entrance, carried the Ring hidden in his up-stage hand and slipped it to Roar. Apparently very few people in the audience even noticed.

Noted Wagnerian James Morris starred in the 1996 production of The Flying Dutchman, to his peril. On opening night an on-stage accident nearly laid Morris low. During his opening monologue, “Die Frist is um” (The time is up), Morris tripped over a rope mooring Daland’s ship to the dock, causing a sprained right ankle. He did not fall; the severe wrench was painfully visible, yet Morris continued to sing magnificently although he limited his stage movements. After a long intermission, an examination by the Opera’s house doctor, and a boot packed with ice and bandages, Morris continued the performance as if nothing had happened.   

For all the troubles with Cincinnati’s Wagnerian productions, each has remained musically and dramatically compelling, each enthralling its audiences with masterful performances. Thus it is with great joy that Cincinnati presents the 2010 Meistersinger. Meistersinger is important not just as a masterpiece of art, but as a performance by internationally-renowned artists, and a tribute to Cincinnati’s German heritage.

Music critic and Cincinnati resident Charles H. Parsons is editor of the Mellen Opera Reference Index. He writes for Opera News, Opera (London), and American Record Guide.