Death of an icon:To focus on the final years of Pavarotti's career would be to miss the point, writes Paddy Agnewin Rome
Italy was yesterday in mourning following the death of one of its most famous sons, opera singer Luciano Pavarotti. A larger than life figure who was arguably the best known Italian of his generation, 71-year-old Pavarotti had been suffering from pancreatic cancer for the last year. He died peacefully in his villa home just outside his native Modena at five o'clock yesterday morning.
Although Pavarotti had retired from staged opera in 2004, he undertook a worldwide "farewell tour" of concerts last year during which he fell ill. Diagnosed and operated on for pancreatic cancer almost immediately in New York, the portly Pavarotti had been in convalescence ever since and never did get to finish his "farewell tour".
He is survived by his first and second wives, Adua Veroni and Nicoletta Mantovani, and by four daughters, Lorenza, Cristina, Giuliana and Alice. All four daughters and his second wife, Nicoletta Mantovani, were at his bedside when he died.
Pavarotti will perhaps be best remembered for the manner in which he successfully popularised opera, especially through the Three Tenors project in which he shared the stage with Plácido Domingo and José Carreras. The idea first took shape in a memorable concert at the 1990 World Cup finals in Italy where, not for the first time, Pavarotti brought the house down with his magnificent rendition of Nessun dorma.
The Three Tenors project earned Pavarotti not only a worldwide audience but also harsh criticism from classical music lovers who felt he had gone downmarket. For all the criticism, however, the 1994 The Three Tenors in Concert remains the best-selling classical album of all time.
Throughout the 90s he continued to displease the classical purists with a series of charity concerts, many of them held in his home town of Modena, in which he performed on stage with the biggest names in popular music, including Elton John, Bono of U2, Bob Geldof, Sting, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney.
To focus only on the final years of Pavarotti's 45-year-long career would be to miss the point. For, even if he went "popular" with his singing at the stage when his voice had lost some of its original brilliance, he was still one of the greatest singers of the last century - a tenor who can justly be compared to such legendary predecessors as Beniamino Gigli, Enrico Caruso and Giuseppe Di Stefano.
Having taught for two years prior to becoming a professional singer, Pavarotti's first big breakthrough came in 1961 when he won an international competition at the Teatro Reggio Emilia. Within two years, he had made his Covent Garden and Glyndebourne debuts, singing two of his most successful and enduring roles, Edgardo in Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor and Rudolfo in Puccini's La bohème.
A turning point in Pavarotti's career came early on when the great soprano, Dame Joan Sutherland, invited him to sing Edgardo to her Lucia on a tour of Australia. Astounded by the quality and power of his voice, Dame Sutherland reportedly took the young Pavarotti aside and told him the "Baby" story. Why and how can a baby cry all night and not be hoarse the next morning, she asked? Because the baby uses not just his voice and throat but his diaphragm and body too when crying. She urged Pavarotti to learn to look after his voice - advice that, despite all the showbiz connotations of his later career, he never forgot.
In later years, he developed a reputation for being something of a "diva". His dressing room had to be of a certain size and in a certain position, ie on the same floor as the stage. At Covent Garden, senior figures still recall the day Pavarotti refused to make way for the National Ballet Company. The tenor had been rehearsing with a pianist when the ballet troupe arrived for a booked rehearsal. Although he had long since run over his allotted time, Pavarotti kept on practising. Eventually, stage hands were called in and asked to remove his piano to get him off the stage.
Such was the great man's box-office power that he could force an opera company to change programme. In 1997, for instance, he famously announced he could not (or would not) learn his part for a new production of Verdi's La Forza del Destino at the New York Metropolitan. Faced with his refusal, the Met changed schedule and substituted it with Un Ballo In Maschera, a piece he was willing to sing.
Despite his self-indulgence, Pavarotti put his fame to good use, raising millions over the years in charity concerts for war zones such as Bosnia, Kosovo and Afghanistan. "I'm not a politician, I'm a musician. I care about giving people a place where they can go to enjoy themselves and to begin to live again. To the man you have to give the spirit and when you give him the spirit, you have done everything," he told the BBC Music Magazine in 1998.
In his later years, Pavarotti was rarely out of the limelight, even if for reasons not strictly related to his opera career. Accused of not paying his taxes in Italy, he pulled up at the finance minister's door one day and handed over a cheque worth around €12 million.
When, at the end of the 90s, he opted to leave his first wife, Adua Veroni, and move in with his then 26-year-old secretary, Nicoletta Mantovani, he was back in the gossip pages. He divorced Veroni in 2002, marrying Mantovani in 2003 but not before the gossip weeklies had a busy time following the "illicit" couple.
Invariably charming, often funny, always struggling with his huge weight, Pavarotti was yesterday fondly recalled by his companion in arms, Plácido Domingo: "I always had the fullest admiration for his divine voice, with its unmistakeable timbre and complete vocal range. I loved his sense of humour and often when, with José Carreras, we were in concert, we would forget we were actually singing for a paying public, because we were having such fun amongst ourselves."