How I started.

Posted by Rocky on Dec 25, 2011 in Blog, Featured, Living, Personal History

I could have been really good at the work I’m playing at in this photo.   I kept my car,  yes it is the one that has me in it’s jaws,  happy for about 20 years.  I sold it in 2003 and it may still be running around Plattsburgh for all I know.

Because I was blessed to meet the people I needed exactly when I needed them along the path of my life, I escaped having to get a real job like the one implied by that Photo Opportunity. These strategic arrivals in my life either gave me what I needed or I stole things from them just when the time was right.  I admit that it is a bit of an exaggeration to say that I stole things.  When a talented person had no intention of helping me, but I could recognize the tools that they were using to obtain their success,  they could not avoid my theft, and  I expect most of them didn’t notice.  I remember many opportunities for larcenies and I’m grateful to these artists even more than their applauding audiences.  I still appreciate them and know the reason for that appreciation.   I am even more obliged to those who just handed me stuff.  The big blessings came from them.  If God keeps me here, among the living,  long enough I might have opportunity to mention each and every one of them but for now I will list the really important people who just gave me what they had to offer just when I needed it. 

It started with my dad Robert who always tolerated me and was always proud of me.  I introduce him in  Where I come from.

When I got to grade school I was scooped up by two teachers Joanne and Lynn Wilke at Peru Central School.  They nurtured this little Rock Eater child destined to wear the lesser label Tenor.  I loved it.  I loved them, and Lynn is still being Lynn even today.  A few years before I met the Wilkes, Lynn did a number on his back.  The damage he did at Ausable Chasm caught up with him just in time to bring “Red” into my life.  Lynn went into traction and I went into training.

Renata Carisio Booth, known to her students as “Red” because of her flaming red hair not to mention her personality, swept into Peru Central School like a wind that the north country had never seen before.

She was the first of her kind that I ever met.  Note that Renata is the one in the turban and that she was a true Diva.  The framed picture just behind her head is a snap of….. guess who?  She had a profound effect on my future.  The just in time character of our meeting is beyond compare.  The future envisioned by this little Rock Eater quickly changed into something that made keeping my teeth much more important.  So I quit trying to knock them out. 

Not withstanding my efforts to eliminate from my smile those two front Buck Teeth on two occasions, they are still in there.  Broken, but still serving.  How can you claim Rock Eater status and not have strong chompers?

It was in Renata’s house a magnificent encounter took place that led me to eventually ask just the right question.  My future wife took up taking lessons with Renata.  She, for no reason apparent to this tenor, noticed me.  That event led to a thread of pure Gold in the fabric of my personal life.  Full disclosure will not be part of these pages, but some very personal history is essential to the story of Renata and Rocky.  I’ll get back to that story another time. 

The next super beneficial meeting to my future life as a tenor was in Washington, DC while I was dodging Vietnam in the U.S. Navy Band Sea Chanters.  I entered a vocal competition in which I got noticed by two of the nicest talented people I ever met in the business: Evelyn Lear and Thomas Stewart.

These lovely people carried stories of me to New York City and mentioned me to their agent, Matthew Epstein, pictured with them here:

I got noticed by other people along the way before my wife Debbie, yes, the beautiful girl that Renata put in my path, and I moved to Yonkers but they will have to wait for another time.  It was in those first days of learning the cheapest route from Yonkers to Manhattan and how to do auditions I got noticed by the next big influence in my career.

George London held a cattle call audition for the National Opera Institute at Juilliard School.  At his side in the auditorium was one of my new advocates: Evelyn Lear.  In good tenor fashion, I did not clearly explain to the pianist where to start the aria I was going to sing.   He started in a measure I didn’t expect and egg spread across my face when I forgot to start singing.  I stopped the pianist and explained there on the stage what I should have made clear back in the wings.  George piped up from the auditorium: “Why don’t you lay out a board and play a few games of checkers while you’re at it?”   My dreams of study money instantly vanished, but in short order we got going again this time with this tenor using his voice for singing.  I believe Ms. Lear was a calming influence in that audition and my best evidence is that George gave me a grant from the NOI and my operatic debut in Washington, DC.  He even threw in a few voice lessons. 

This photo is from one of them.   No question in my mind.  Evelyn sitting next to George was just in time.

Matthew Epstein gave me an audition when I got to Yonkers.  He said in a very nice way: “Don’t call me. I’ll call you, and by the way go out and buy a decent suit for auditions.  When you look like you don’t need a job, you’re more likely to get one.”  That advice is good for anyone.  So I spent six months auditioning in my new suit, tie, shirt, shoes and socks…..  I think I may have bought a watch too,  who can remember these things?…   Anyway, with a little more experience and a dapper appearance I sang an audition that Matthew just happened to attend.  Was that just in time?  Very few days passed before I got the call that I had been hoping for.  Down I drove to Manhattan to sign a CAMI management contract with Matthew Epstein.

In those days that event was big enough to be called a good start.

Where I come from.

Posted by Rocky on Dec 25, 2011 in Featured, Living, Personal History

This is me! I also appear on the Welcome Page proudly posing in front of the family garden.  This kid is still having fun even as an old man.  These photos give you an idea of what it’s like up north of everybody else in New York State.  Black and white photography can capture most of the character of the shiver weather, but mosquito slapping weather here in the north is full of green that escapes that chemical retina.

Back when I was little, we northerners used to be insulated from mass invasion on nearly every side but one.  Canada is just a whistle stop or two north of us.  Our history has been impacted by this  reality for as long as we have had a history to note.  Not that we were noticed.  That is until the Cold War caused an economic boom in Plattsburgh.  Wow I remember my dad putting me on the roof of his car to watch the HUGE earth moving machines creating a runway for B 47s and destroying the insular character of our forest hide away.  In the fullness of time, true to form, the Feds lost interest in that Air Force Base and handed it over to local authorities to play with as they saw fit.  The damage was already done and we are now no more isolated than any other part of the country on the Interstate Highway System.  By the way we are noticed now.  TV shows call our town a Hell Hole and the citizens here Rock Eaters.  Also by the way, those TV shows who have us on their radar screens originate from New York City.  We think of them as to the extreme south.  Read my words to mean southerners.

The natural beauty of The North Country goes a long way to recommend this area to prospective citizens, and blessed we are in that department.  I’m really happy about this because it was that natural beauty that inspired my wife’s father to settle his family here.  Well that’s not the only reason I’m happy God blessed this part of the world with outstanding natural attributes, but it’s a good one.

I want to introduce my Dad:

He and the plastic animals behind him are no longer with us.  My Dad died a few years back.  I miss him a lot. He supported me in everything I did as a kid until he caught me stealing apples.   He was a kind and generous man who didn’t have much, but was open handed none the less.  He even provided a pool when his brothers and sisters would come by to visit.  My Dad had only one child.  That be me. (a little north country speak)  The rest of his siblings who got married worked a little harder at populating the Earth.  Come to think of it, I believe that even the unmarried ones had a go at this project, and who can say they didn’t surpass my Dad’s efforts?

These kids soaking with me in the canvas pool represent a very small percentage of the cousins I can claim as family.  I lost count a long time ago.  Tenor that I was to become I knew that front and center was the power position.  There I am down center front in profile with the dark hair.  Would you look at that hair.  Things do change don’t they.

Those  shinning simple days in the 50s gave me a rock solid opinion that life as a poor person was certainly blessed, BUT!!!   How much fun we all had with near nothing and I had clear evidence that our parents were also well entertained.  I acquired an ability to escape a personal predicament that seems to be a national torture in the USA today.  Well I will admit that History did not start with my birth and this problem has been with us even longer than the USA has been around. I’ll get to that in the blogs that follow.

Did I mention I’m a tenor?  I love tenor jokes.  I also suffer from the deficiencies these jokes exploit to make you and me laugh.  I’m going to leave the rest of my story to the many Blogs I hope to write as I overcome, little by little, the intrinsic laziness with which we tenors are branded.