Biography
ROBERT MERRILL
Baritone
Robert Merrill, whose smooth, powerful baritone voice and vigorous interpretations helped make him a favorite singer at the Metropolitan Opera for 30 years, died at his home on Saturday. He was 87.
He died, apparently of natural causes, while watching the first game of the World Series on television, said his wife, Marion.
During his tenure with the Met, Mr. Merrill sang leading roles in much of the standard repertory, including the title role in ''Rigoletto,'' Germont in ''La Traviata,'' Figaro in ''Il Barbiere di Siviglia,'' Escamillo in ''Carmen'' and Tonio in ''Pagliacci''; he appeared in most of these many times. Regarded as one of the greatest Verdi baritones of his generation, he was known for the security and strength of his sound, as well as for the precision and clarity with which he could hit pitches across his two-octave range.
''Although he occasionally appeared in Europe and South America, he p 18318x2314s referred to base his career at the Metropolitan Opera, where he sang all the major baritone roles of the Italian and French repertories,'' Peter G. Davis wrote of Mr. Merrill in The New Grove Dictionary of American Music. ''In terms of vocal endowment, technical security and longevity, he was unequaled among baritones of his generation at the Metropolitan.''
Mr. Merrill made his Metropolitan debut as Germont on Dec. 15, 1945, and celebrated his 500th performance there on March 5, 1973. He remained on the Met roster until 1976.
During his first 15 years at the house, Mr. Merrill was overshadowed to some extent by Leonard Warren, who was then at the height of his powers, and was the baritone of choice for the heavier Verdi roles. Still, Mr. Merrill quickly found a niche in roles that Warren either found unsuitable (Figaro in ''Barbiere,'' for example) or had stopped singing (Enrico Ashton in ''Lucia di Lammermoor,'' Marcello in ''La Bohème'' and Escamillo among them).
''After Leonard Warren's tragic death onstage at the Metropolitan in 1960, Merrill became more or less indisputably America's principal baritone and perhaps the best lyricist since Giuseppe de Luca,'' the critic J.B. Steane wrote in his book ''The Grand Tradition.'' ''The easy and even production of a beautifully well-rounded tone is not common, especially when the voice is also a powerful one; yet this is, after all, the basis of operatic singing, and Merrill's records will always commend themselves in these terms.
''On the other hand, the repertory and the interpretations are as 'central' as the voice itself. His records are not stamped with the sort of individuality that lodges immediately in a listener's memory; they are simply the work of a very good opera singer and source of unfailing pleasure to the ear.''
But Mr. Merrill was more than just an opera singer. His career extended to radio, television and film, and he made occasional appearances in nightclubs and in Las Vegas; he was also a prolific recitalist. And his performing extended to singing the national anthem at Yankee Stadium; his recording was used for many years to open home games by the Yankees.
''It's strange,'' he said in an interview with The New York Times after his 500th appearance at the Met, ''but I keep feeling that I'm just beginning, that I'm just a beginner. I've never taken the Met for granted. At the old house, whenever I walked in, I had that marvelous feeling -- what am I doing here, a kid from Brooklyn?''
Mr. Merrill's parents, Abraham and Lotze Millstein, met and married in Warsaw and changed their name to Miller after they emigrated to the United States. They settled in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, where their first son, Moishe -- who changed his name to Robert Merrill at the start of his singing career -- was born on June 4, 1917. He was, by his own account, an unhappy child. He was overweight, and he stuttered, except when he sang. His mother, who was said to have a lovely, pure soprano, but who was discouraged by her family from making a career, began to mold Mr. Merrill's singing voice before it changed from that of a boy soprano to its mature baritone.
Mr. Merrill's role model, at first, was Bing Crosby. But a new world opened to him while he was a teenager when a job pushing racks of clothing in Manhattan's garment district brought him past the old Metropolitan Opera House. One afternoon, he wandered in during a rehearsal of ''La Traviata.'' Lawrence Tibbett was singing Germont, with Lucrezia Bori as Violetta. He was awestruck, and he resolved, with his mother's encouragement, to undertake serious vocal studies. He sought out Samuel Margolis, one of the leading voice teachers in New York, who offered to teach him free of charge.
While pursuing his vocal studies, Mr. Merrill (who tried an intermediate name change, to Merrill Miller) made occasional appearances on WFOX radio, singing ballads. ''I moaned my romantic imitations of the crooners without mercy or humility, and received a few letters from girls who could not spell,'' Mr. Merrill later said. He also sang at bar mitzvahs and weddings and at hotels in the Catskills. A first try at a Met audition, in 1941, was a failure. But during one of his hotel jobs, he met an agent, Moe Gale, who found him work at Radio City Music Hall and with the NBC Concert Orchestra, as well as an operatic debut -- now under the name Robert Merrill -- in a production of Verdi's ''Aida'' in Newark.
When he entered the Metropolitan Opera auditions again, in 1944, he shared first prize with Thomas Hayward, and was engaged for his debut. From the beginning, he was intent on combining high art with old-fashioned show business. Beginning in June 1946, he was a featured soloist on the Sunday afternoon RCA Victor Show, which was broadcast nationwide. And in 1950, he signed a contract with Paramount to make a film, ''Aaron Slick From Punkin Crick.''
The film briefly put Mr. Merrill's Met career in jeopardy: when it turned out that the filming was to take place at the same time as the Met's spring tour, Mr. Merrill asked the Met's imperious general manager, Rudolf Bing, to be released from his touring obligations. Bing refused, and when Mr. Merrill did not appear for the tour, Bing charged him with breach of contract and declared him no longer a member of the company.
Mr. Merrill quickly realized that he had made the wrong decision. ''After 'Aaron Slick' was released in April 1952, it had the peculiar distinction of filling box offices from coast to coast with patrons demanding refunds,'' he wrote in an autobiography. ''The film continues to bedevil me on late, late television. Half the Met chorus and many of the soloists blame me for keeping them up late, but they swear they enjoy it.''
Mr. Merrill made several formal and public apologies to Bing, who reinstated him in time for the 1952 spring tour. That year, he married the soprano Roberta Peters, who had made her debut with the company two years earlier and, like Mr. Merrill, was part of the first generation of American singers to put a thumbprint on the opera world. That union lasted only three months. In 1954, Mr. Merrill married Marion Machno, a pianist. She survives him, as do a son, David; a daughter, Lizanne; and three grandchildren.
Mr. Merrill continued to sing at the Met through 1976, and even then, he retained a strong, fairly flexible voice. ''By 1976, he finally just wandered away from the Met,'' Mr. Davis wrote in ''The American Opera Singer.'' ''It seemed as if he had become bored with the limited repertory he was given, but he made no serious efforts to broaden his artistic horizons.''
After his retirement, he made occasional concert appearances, and he sang in the eight-hour Metropolitan Opera centennial concert in 1983.
Mr. Merrill made many recordings for RCA. He sang in two complete opera broadcasts on radio under Toscanini -- ''La Traviata'' in 1946 and ''Un Ballo in Maschera'' in 1953 -- both of which were later issued on CD. He wrote two autobiographies, ''Once More From the Beginning'' (1965) and ''Between Acts'' (1976), as well as a novel, ''The Divas'' (1978). He received a number of honorary doctorates and awards.
''Vocally, there is no reason why you cannot sing for 30 or 40 years,'' Mr. Merrill said in 1973. ''I'm going to go on as long as I'm enjoying it, as long as I'm having a ball.''
From the New York Times Obituary
Published: October 26, 2004
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