(classical music) (jazzy theme song) - Hello.

I'm Janet Baker-Carr, your host for Conversations.

And our guest this evening is Leontyne Price, one of the greatest artists of our century and beloved native of Mississippi.

Welcome home, Ms. Price.

- Thank you very much.

- You picked a beautiful time of year.

- Did I not?

The landscape full of azaleas and dogwood.

A joy to my heart.

It's always wonderful to come home, but that's a scenic joy, in particular.

- When you were young, there were people who sensed your potential a lot.

But when did you know in here that you could have the kind of career that you've had?

- There are days now, I'm not sure I will ever know.

But the early days, I think my parents actually made the first big, big mistake to create the monster I have become, at five years old, when they purchased for Christmas, a toy piano.

And I think the attention that I received at that time sort of focused on my career, to be jovial about, I'm very serious about that.

And then I started taking piano lessons at a very early age from, one of the teachers had to be Mrs. MacInnis and the rest is history.

As things matured, with this expertize that began at an early age of five or six.

I graduated to the post of pianist for the Sunday School and for the church.

And in that capacity, I was being heard.

I think my mother and daddy suspected that I might have some talent by that time, because I was always anxious to be center stage under all circumstances.

And later on, it began to grow.

By the time I graduated from high school, I went to audition in college and started off as a pianist to being the main soloist on the campus.

Then went to Juilliard, and the rest just gathers on.

After I graduated from college, a wonderful family friend, we were friends as families, and they were able to help (clears throat) Pardon me.

--me to go to Juilliard and take the extra, shall we say, specialized training for the career that I've enjoyed for some 45 seasons now.

So it was really a work of a joy for my parents to inspire myself and my brother, Brigadier General Price, to be the best that we could be at all, at all times.

And so far, it's worked out very well.

- Well it has for the rest of us.

- Thank you very much.

- When you were having your debut at the Met on January 27th, 1961, and the ovation went on for 42 minutes, what was going on in your head?

- How could I possibly be better the next time on the stage?

That'’s a philosophy that I pass on to my students now.

But you soak in the adulation that you've earned.

Earning love from an audience is a very specialized feeling.

It is something that is so special that only the artist that is so involved and produces the great gift, because-- I call him The Man Upstairs, very much known as God.

If He is kind enough to anoint you with a blessed gift, then you must give it all of your undivided focus, but with a great joy that you have been chosen to have this gift when He could have given it to someone else.

And when you reach a certain level, I don't like to think of it as a success.

When you reach a certain level, particularly for the first run on the on the artistic mountain, I called, you know, the Metropolitan Opera debut, which is the pinnacle of artistic grandeur in your home country and not only just your home country, but the world.

To be as prepared as I was to be as supported by my family as I was, to be so ready, I think, had a great deal to do with the success.

And also in retrospect as I would think, quote unquote an American who had been taught by her parents that the greatest thing you can have as a blessing is to be yourself.

First, the gift of being an American and having the opportunities is something that's very, very, very, very positive, and nothing should keep you from being your very, very best.

I think all those thoughts came to me the night that I heard this thunderous applause.

It was like a type of a roar of personal acceptance, you know, a whole totality about it that I can feel in my pores even now.

- I'm sure you can, and you describe it once as a vibration of acceptance, which sends shivers down my spine.

- Yes, in that sense, to be totally American.

I enjoy the responsibility of being a bit of a barrier-breaker, in a sense that it gave me a sense of responsibility that, I think, any artist has, even if it is not, shall we say, a tremendous personal responsibility in many ways.

For me it was...

I think that's one of the reasons I did not choose to do "“Aida"”.

It was a little too obvious for what I wanted to say, and it was much more of a challenge to me and to particularly express a total artistic expression of the beauty of my gift.

- Yes.

- And all that went before it.

And to challenge tradition, to accept the artist as a whole entity simply from the beauty of the sound.

And some people that you know, art, if you know what I mean, as a whole entity.

And it worked.

It was absolutely wonderful.

And I remember that as a very important message.

One of my very first whole messages about being a whole person.

Later, I'm proud to say I believe that Aida probably will be more my legacy because all the other challenges went in and it would have been almost too easy.

Now, I'm proud to say, I believe she's my legacy because Aida was myself, and I was Aida.

She said so many things for me.

But it was mixed from experiences that I had being challenged so much.

So the things, the color of my skin is my costume anyway.

So I had had so much experiences expressing challenging roles that the one that was so obviously made for me was enhanced, I believe.

- What was your process of learning a new role?

- The usual process, which I pass on to the kids, is the first thing you do is I think to take the score, learn every single note, not just your character.

Study the composer, what he meant in regards to the whole unit of the opera.

Find out your strengths, how you intertwine with other characters.

And that was very fascinating, being a very honest soprano, because that was really Giuseppe Verdi's strong points and find where you weave in and out.

Then afterwards, I revert back to Aida, only to say that that was the only role I did not have to research in means of ways to walk, to talk.

The period that the performing character was from, you know.

How do you comport?

What is your attitude toward being constantly assisted by a lady-in-waiting, all the period things.

You mix those two together and then you collaborate those.

And as you sing and start with the technique to come to the studio, you merge all of this.

The second merging is with all the characters that you will be singing with in the opera.

And you must be so totally strong musically, histrionically, that the maestro knows that he has someone who is so thorough that when you perform with them as a unit, nothing, even nerves, can make you lose focus.

It's a process that is gradual, but when it comes as a whole, that is the difference between being a whole artist and one who is, I think, possibly mediocre.

It's a whole unit and give it the time and the expertise.

There are many things to being an opera besides the voice, but it is basically the focus of that most grand of artistic art forms.

You should also bring a more antenna in to it with yourself as the protagonista.

- You must have some very lovely memories of Samuel Barber.

- I wouldn't know where to start.

There would never be enough time.

I'm pleased to say he was one of my most beloved friends and I was honored beyond belief to receive the honor and the tremendous responsibility to open the Great Metropolitan Opera House in 1966.

I think that was heightened by the fact that my beloved housekeeper made his favorite chicken and pasta dishes, which means that an awful lot of that opera was written right at my piano at home.

So I had a personal sense of how Cleopatra would be as I saw the ink being put on the score paper.

And that, I think, was what was so joyous for me when I received that responsibility.

I think probably survived it because of those early things with him.

And actually I'm proud to say that I'm, I think, a Barber Troubadour because there are very few of his vocal fantastic songs that I have not sung through these 40 some seasons on Morrissey to all my recitals.

He was special indeed.

One of the best.

Although I cannot afford Monet, he is my favorite painter and I think of my beloved Samuel Barber as our American composing Monet, a true impressionist.

- And it's the Impressionism of Monet that attracts you?

- I have seen so many exhibitions, including visiting his, I guess it's his home state, in Giverny.

I don't know, it's something about the mixture and the softness.

Also, I think vocally perhaps I think of him as a painter because I think my own title I've given myself, I think I'm a vocal impressionist because I have a voice that has so many colors in it.

And I feel when I'm performing either in recital or doing an entire opera, imbuing the character with different colors, I think has made some of them, something of a mark, an appreciation for my particular art presentation.

And that's what I think I am: a voice that is sensual but has an enormous amount of different colors.

Dark, it has blues and the reds and I have used them in my entire career.

- When you remember your mother's voice, was it much like yours?

- I wish.

That's the first beautiful voice I ever heard in my life.

It was a beautiful lyric soprano.

And I don't think in my wildest hours I have sung as beautiful as I heard her singing.

Hanging clothes up on the line in the backyard, she would sing.

- What would she sing?

- Naturally, she would sing hymns.

One of her favorite was "“Blessed Assurance, Jesus is Mine"”.

And she was, of course, I think I came by Center-Stage-itis very early because she sat center stage in the St Paul Methodist choir all my life.

And spirituals, of course.

And you know, practically all of the well-known hymns from the Methodist hymn book.

- Were your parents at the Metropolitan at your debut?

- Oh, yes, they were.

That was one of the most-- The great president from whom I received the Freedom Medal was President Lyndon Baines Johnson.

A very special gentleman indeed in my book, and in my life.

The attention that was paid by Mrs. Johnson to my parents at that festive night where she was the guest of honor, of course, it'’s indelible in my memory.

Very, very, very, very, special.

They were special because they, I don't know, they were so excited for me.

But they were, I think, the most dignified people there.

Everyone else was fluttering and nervous.

And my parents were so elegant, like true royalty.

And I they were bursting inside, but they were so marvelously, lovingly controlled.

I was very proud of them.

And my brother, of course, who was at that particular time handsome beyond belief, as my father, was with them.

And his first born.

All decked out in his officer'’s uniform.

And they all looked and were so excited.

But they were so, you know, grandiose about the whole thing.

(laughing) I remember that very vividly.

It was wonderful.

- You've had many, many honors.

Is there one in particular that means more to you than others?

- The one that I mentioned was one.

They all have been.

I think to be recognized by your peers, the Kennedy Center Honors, hat was in 1980, was a glorious time for me.

But to receive your country's highest medal, that's, shall we say, a very distinctive place in history.

I received also, from President Ronald Reagan, the first Medal of Arts.

That was very, very important to me.

Of course, from my, shall we say, enjoyment of singing, all 19 of my Grammys, I treasure.

I have enjoyed.

I would think, unabashedly, the first one, my country's highest honor would be the most.... heart.... warming, shall we say.

And also I've received, from former Mayor Ed Koch, The Handel Medallion from New York, which is a great honor because I'm a villager of Greenwich Village of 40 some years.

And then I won, from the Metropolitan, a medal and from San Francisco also, the opera company, a medal.

So I treasure those very much as well.

Yes.

- And you've sung a great variety of roles.

Is there a role that you wish you had sung that you didn't have the opportunity to?

- No.

Opportunity was always a word.

Overabundance of opportunities.

And that's one of the joys of being in America.

And getting back to what I rambled on about earlier, it was because of that particular challenge in the beginning that made impresarios later not hesitate to want me to do roles that I would tell them I do not think that they have the right ones to do.

For instance, Desdemona in Othello.

It's, you know, in other words, opportunities galore.

I always chose things, except for one or two times-- I never make mistakes twice-- are roles that I could give my entire focus to, not only vocally, but histrionically.

I had proven everything that had to open my door, to open the door so that it is wide.

And the challenge of just running bananas, quote unquote, with the right roles.

I don't think I have ever had more fun than I did doing the right roles and saying no to the wrong ones.

- And you knew instantly which was which.

- Yes, I did, because-- there's another thing that I share with the youngsters.

In the very beginning, you must have the (foreign phrase).

You must be so in love with your own individual sound.

No one else in the world has those two vocal chords.

They are special.

You must learn to love the sound so much, coupled with a focused, focused study regime, that you are in total control of it at any time, day/night, at all times, that it is under your control.

Then you can sing anything you wish to sing.

And also remember, which is a philosophy that my beloved teacher, Florence Page Campbell, gave me early at Juilliard before all of the success noise began: sing on your interest, not your capital.

That was her secret to a nuance.

As you see in the world today, we don't have enough nuance.

And a voice without nuance is very, very dull.

In other words, the audience should always receive from you another page of art, a continuation.

In other words, you should you should always have-- not in reserve, au contraire.

That is not what she meant.

The philosopher means that there's always something of you to expand on to the audience, to give them more to enjoy.

Not, you know, out.

Singing is out, singing is.

That's why it's such a wonderful art form.

It is so personal.

And you must be fresh with it at all times too.

To weave in and out and also to be bravado, to be soft, to be forte, to be all of the qualities, and play on them.

But always remember that you want to do it again, even better.

- When you were singing at the Met, how many performances would you be comfortable doing over a period of time?

- In the days in my era, which was, if you don't mind my saying fantastic.

- It was.

- We...... For myself, I did not like to do more than two performances a week.

I like to have at least 48 hours in between.

That is for you to be dependable.

Managers, conductors do not have to worry if you are going to be on right.

So if there is 48 hours.

This I also talked about with my beloved Dr. Frederick Broughton.

He was like my another one of my Papas for so many years.

To understand also, what are the things that you can do, besides keeping yourself physically and vocally in expert form at all times?

But sometimes there may be an element out of your control: the weather.

But what can you do?

And how much time would you need to take care of that so that if it is on the books for another performance, he always told me 48 hours is the minimum.

That means you would not have to cancel, if you understand what I mean.

- I do.

- That enough time for you to recuperate and be dependable.

And that theory I have kept.

With that, I always try to have my operatic performances, if I could, with at least two days in between, which means probably about two performances a week.

Now, later in the career, I did more, but earlier establishing the solidity on which I was sort of parachuted up, shall we say.

That was the mode and it worked.

- And you enjoy giving master classes?

- Absolutely.

Very, very much.

My theory with the youngsters is I'm the friend, not the phantom.

So let's go to work.

I actually mix it in with what would be, not just vocal.

Master classes are not, because the ones that come to you have already a basis of technique.

They have some beginning of roots because I have colleagues who are wonderful teachers.

A master class is to, like silver-- which I collect a lot-- it's just polishing a little bit more.

And with my personal knowledge of different things, going forward, I like to share with them little things, like I said to you, learn the whole score.

This is the attitude.

Do not go in with a maestro and have one tempo.

Be flexible.

If he has another one, it challenges you to be able to sing another way, once you're out of the studio.

What a master class is to try to help them to move from Juilliard, or from the school where they are, and sharpen them, to prepare them.

It's like a fruitful rap session, in a word.

I give them pointers about keeping things, you know, under control, and also attitudes, especially when you are first before the public to be sure that you are on stage, but that the best of you is seen at the best time first on, because the first impression is a very lasting one.

It's great fun.

It keeps me on my toes.

I think I've probably sung better since I've been doing master classes because I like very much to practice what I preach.

It'’s been a very youthful and exhilarating experience for me.

- Before we started talking on the air, you were mentioning Marian Anderson.

Was she one of your mentors?

- Not my mentor, but it was here in Jackson that my mother brought me, at the age of nine.

And I think her entrance on stage solidified that this is what I wanted to do.

- Really?

- She was my first artistic inspiration.

- What did she sing?

- She did her recitals because she was not, you know, the opera doors were not opened at that time.

As a matter of fact, it was difficult to, you know-- I remember being in the balcony with my mother.

And I think that's why she knew that it was important for me to come, because artists did not come in this area very often for many reasons.

But this is an experience that I would say was so important to me.

And I loved her dearly and stayed in contact with her through the years.

- Did you?

- Yes, I did.

- And what did she teach you?

What did she tell you?

- I don't mean that way.

I mean, as an inspiration, I meant that I would call her to see how she was.

Say hello and remind her verbally as things progressed for me and the career would get more and more successful just to call her on the phone.

Or if I happened to see her, if she was in the city, because she lived outside the city in Connecticut, I would make it a point to see her and just to tell her vis a vis how much she meant to me.

And I remember a few years before she died that she called me to wish me a happy birthday.

And I said, you don't know what this means to me, because I-- and she thanked me for telling her verbally how I felt.

I did the same for another great lady who inspired me, and that was La Carlos.

- We need to send you off to The Splendors of Versailles, and I want to thank you so much for being with us.

- Thank you for inviting me.

- It's a great pleasure.

- It's been a pleasure for me as well.

It's wonderful to be home again.

- Good.

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