Baby Doe: A Tale of Two Operas
By David Bamberger
General Director, Cleveland Opera
The Ballad of Baby Doe is,
in a sense, two operas. One deals with the literal depiction of events
in American history. It is the only stage work I know that is truly
faithful to historical truth. Don’t bother with Shakespeare
or Verdi for objective views of Richard III or Don Carlos.
But if you want to know what really happened to Horace Tabor, there
is no better introduction than John Latouche’s libretto.
Surprisingly, then, the second opera—the
more important one—is quite abstract. It is an examination of
the meaning and nature of love and life. The first mention of the
word “love,” in the very first scene, deals with money.
(The Miner: “I am Tabor’s little lamb; Tabor loves my
mine and me.”) We then get to see the cold, pragmatic marriage
of Tabor and Augusta (she must love Tabor in her own way, but she
is so “proper” she can’t even use the word); then
the bubbly love of life displayed by Mama McCourt; and, of course,
the unique relationship, the love stronger than death, of Baby Doe
and Tabor.
In planning a production, each stage
director must decide how to balance these two simultaneously occurring
operas. When Baby Doe and Tabor first meet, for example, how realistic
is the world around them? Do other people pass on the street? Is the
scenery arranged so that they can touch? Or are they physically kept
“worlds apart” even as the music tells us that their spirits
have begun to merge?
Similarly, how should one handle
the great scene between Augusta and her friends? It is easy to create
a naturalistic environment in which coffee is poured and cookies are
served. But one can choose to focus entirely on Augusta, immobile
as her shadowy friends function as the voices of society; harpies
whose suspicions dig into her brain. My choice in each case is the
last: the more abstract one.
But far more important is the decision
of how to play the last scene. The problem facing the authors was
that they were writing an opera about love, but that the end of Baby
Doe’s life wasn’t “lovely” at all. It is easy
to dress the soprano so that by removing her cloak she reveals herself
in rags—but there is nothing pretty about an aged eccentric
freezing to death. As I told my production staff, “We do not
need to prove that we can document the appearance of the historical
Elizabeth Doe Tabor when she was discovered dead. The challenge is
portraying an image of eternal love, of an eternity where, as Baby
Doe says in her last words, ‘both are ever young.’”
To accomplish this, we dressed her
for final entrance in a simple, dark cloak. When specified in the
score, she pulled back her hood, revealing a pearl gray wig. Slowly
all the stage lights closed down around her until only a tiny spot
of light circled her head. From the depths of the stage, a glow of
light barely illuminated the scenery representing the Matchless
Mine. A few flakes of snow began to fall as with the words “ever
young” floating in the air, the curtain slowly closed over both
the opera that exists as a genuine look at a unique piece of American
history AND at the opera that is about eternal love.
--1998
Mr. Bamberger re-mounted The
Ballad of Baby Doe for the New York City Opera’s production
in Los Angeles, historic as the last time the “recording cast”
(Sills, Bible, Cassel) ever performed the work. Cleveland Opera showcased
his staging in 1992.