The Demon Within
operanews

The stage career of the peerless bass-baritone Norman Treigle, one of New York City Opera's most beloved stars, was a series of triumphs. His personal life was another matter. Ira Siff remembers a great artist and a complicated man.



On February 16, 1975, the opera world was shocked by the news of the sudden death at forty-seven of Norman Treigle, the theatrically riveting, vocally commanding bass-baritone, who seemed finally on the verge of international recognition. To those close to Treigle, the news was perhaps more devastating than shocking, tempered as it was by an awareness of the offstage fragility of this onstage dynamo, who was driven by inner demons even more powerful than those he portrayed so dynamically — demons that tested his physical and psychological endurance on both sides of the footlights.

Tito Capobianco, who directed some of Treigle's most celebrated performances, feels that "the genius of Norman was that he was a man of extremes. He went from one extreme to another — arrogance to humility — a mix of intellect and intuition. The voice of Norman had mystery, a color like crude oil — dark, flexible, but it could be tough. I think we don't have anybody today who can confront all those roles. He was unique. You can compare it only with Chaliapin." Composer Carlisle Floyd agrees. "I don't know anyone comparable. He gave the impression of being a boy who liked to spend time at the races, a real jokester. Then the artist side was absolutely impeccable."