Music: THE MET’S BIG MEN

The famed sopranos give the Met its glamour, but its roster of first-class male singers provides the backbone. As box-office attractions, none of them can compare with a Callas or Tebaldi, and certainly not one of them commands the fanatical personal devotion Caruso once enjoyed. But their presence at the Metropolitan means the difference between a minor and a major opera house. Among the Met’s best men:

Mario Del Monaco, 39, tenor, singing opposite Tebaldi in this week’s opening Tosca. Endowed with the most glorious top register in all opera, Del Monaco came to the Met in 1952 after serving in the Italian army and making his big-time debut at Covent Garden. Short, stocky and a shouter, Del Monaco commands ringing B-flats that have made a name for him in all the roles—Pagliacci’s Canio, Samson, Aïda’s Radames—in which vocal volume, height and brilliance are needed simultaneously. His interpretation of Otello, by critical consensus, is the finest in present-day opera.

Richard Tucker, 44, today the world’s best tenor. A Brooklyn boy, Tucker sang as a cantor in the neighborhood synagogue, for years owned his own textile business, broke into the Met in 1945 with almost no previous operatic experience. He freely confesses his lack of acting talent, but under proper direction he has produced some fine dramatic characterizations, e.g., Don José, Turiddu, Farrando in Così Fan Tutte. He has a big, warm, sensuous tenore robusto.

Leonard Warren, 47, baritone. Bronx-born Singer Warren was a runner in the garment district, studied advertising at Columbia, sang in the Radio City Music Hall chorus, won the Metropolitan Auditions of the Air in 1938. A burly man (6 ft., 218 Ibs.), he restricts himself largely to Verdian roles. His big, mahogany-hued voice is unmatched by any other baritone in the world. He virtually owns the role of Rigoletto, both vocally and dramatically.

Robert Merrill, 40, baritone. Before he reached the Met in 1945 via the Auditions of the Air, Brooklyn-born Bob Merrill crooned with bands on the borscht circuit, made a famous recording of The Star-Spangled Banner for Fox Movietone News (from which he got the nickname “The Star-Spangled Baritone”), pitched a few seasons of semi-pro baseball. He still sings regularly in Las Vegas nightclubs, once explained his devotion to opera: “I’d like to be a comedian, but their material wears out so fast. Me, I’ve got the best writers in the world writing for me—guys like Verdi, Puccini, Bizet.” For all his clowning, Merrill is a deadly serious artist who uses his peculiarly suave, resonant and firmly centered baritone to excellent effect, particularly in the roles Warren neglects—Carmen’s Escamillo, The Barber Figaro, Don Carlo’s Rodrigo.

Cesare Siepi, 34, bass. Born in Milan, Siepi started out to be a boxer, switched to singing during the war, was brought to the U.S. by the Met’s Bing. An excellent actor, he is particularly effective in the roles of such sorrowing old men as Boris and Don Carlo’s Philip II, has also won acclaim for his Don Giovanni and The Barber’s Basilio. His resonant, warm bass and trim good looks make him the leading contender for Ezio Pizza’s place.

Fernando Corena, 41, basso buffo. Geneva-born Singer Corena was headed for the priesthood when he won an amateur voice contest and took off for Milan to study singing. He sang widely in Europe before moving to the Met in 1954. A tastefully controlled comic actor, he promptly made a hit as Leporello in Don Giovanni, Fra Melitone in Forza, Dr. Bartolo in The Barber. The Met was so impressed that it revived two operas for him—Don Pasquale and Gianni Schicchi. One of his famous roles: the sacristan in Tosca.