During a recent break from rehearsals, the pair tossed anecdotes and one-liners back and forth with such ease and familiarity that anyone passing their table at Krannert Center’s Intermezzo may have mistaken the dynamic, dashing duo for a comedy team polishing their latest stand-up routine. Or, perhaps, just a couple of old friends who fit together like a pair of comfortable old loafers.
When their raucous laughter faded, the guys tried again to pull it together long enough to explain how they had at last managed – after each had achieved major success in parallel musical universes – to work together on the UI production of “Candide.” Diazmuñoz had tried to book Hadley for a prior production of the opera, which he conducted in Mexico, but the tenor was otherwise engaged.
They didn’t get too far into their serious recounting of past activities, however, before setting each other off again. The laughter and the levity, they both agreed, was part of the secret of their success as artists and performers.
“I’ve always found this odd,” Hadley said, “but people like myself are often treated with a great deal of deference, and that’s always made me crazy because I’m not really that different than I was (before achieving fame in the opera world). Do you know how Webster defines ‘star’? A star is a flaming ball of gas which floats in the darkness and eventually consumes itself.”
After the laugh track stopped again, Hadley said, “The point is, I’m just not wired that way. I take my work very seriously, but I don’t take myself seriously at all.”
“That’s what makes him a giant,” Diazmuñoz interjected.
“And you know, when I first met Eduardo, this man could teach us all about manners and etiquette. He was so sweet and deferential, and finally I had to say, ‘Eduardo, I’m very low maintenance. It’s fine.’ I think we’re having too much fun, actually, don’t you?”
“Well,” said Diazmuñoz, “I’ve learned through my lifetime, and I know Jerry probably has, too, that great people, great artists, great scientists become giants for their simplicity, for their humanity.”
And speaking of giants, blood-brothers Diazmuñoz and Hadley are linked by their membership in a fairly elite musical fraternity. Both enjoyed the privilege of working closely with one of the 20th century’s most notable musical talents, the legendary Bernstein.
Diazmuñoz met Bernstein in 1979, when he was associate conductor of the Mexico City Philharmonic, and Bernstein made a guest appearance with the orchestra. After working together in Mexico, Bernstein invited Diazmuñoz to join him at Tanglewood as a conducting fellow. They maintained their relationship for nearly 10 years through correspondence, occasional dinners and informal get-togethers at various festivals throughout the world. Diazmuñoz conducted many of Bernstein’s compositions over the years, including the Mexican premiere of “Candide” with the National Opera Company in 2002.
Hadley, who has sung the title role of Candide in countless concert performances and on Bernstein’s classic Deutsche Grammophon recording, said he estimates that he has performed in 80 to 100 concerts conducted by Bernstein. And in addition to “Candide,” he made two other recordings with the maestro: “La Boheme” and a Mozart Requiem.
Hadley said his first encounter with Bernstein was not unlike the stuff of dreams. And at the time, it felt like something of a nightmare for Hadley, who now regards the incident as just one of many memorable Bernstein stories he’s fond of telling and retelling – complete with his own inimitable impersonation of the man he refers to as “Lenny.”
“I was in Los Angeles at the Hollywood Bowl singing a semi-staged ‘Oedipus Rex,’ by Stravinsky. And Bernstein’s protégé Michael Tilson Thomas was conducting. I didn’t know Lenny was there in the audience. We finished our performance. I went back to my dressing room and I was literally standing in my underwear. And the door to my dressing room flings open. In comes Lenny, wearing a white jump suit with a cape, and he’s smoking a cigarette from a long cigarette holder. And I’m going … that’s Leonard Bernstein … and I’m practically naked!
“And he walks in and sings the first line that I had sung as Oedipus. And then, without, ‘Hello, I’m Leonard Bernstein’ … of course, he figured I knew who he was … he comes over and puts his arms around me and gives me a hug, and gives me a big, sloppy, wet kiss right on the mouth. And I’m thinking, you know, I had hoped to meet Leonard Bernstein one day, but I thought it would be different than this!
“He said, ‘That was really great, kid. We’re going to have to talk sometime.’ And he left.”
Hadley said they did talk – about six months later. Bernstein called and asked him to audition for his casting of his opera, “A Quiet Place,” but afterwards, Hadley said he told him, ‘You know, you’re just a little too good for this part. I’d rather do something that really uses your talents.’ So after that, he started hiring me to do all these concerts with him.”
Since Bernstein died, Hadley said he’s been in many situations where those who have worked with him “often get into this one-upmanship thing and say, ‘Yes, but I did this, I did this.’ ” But that doesn’t happen, he said, when he and Diazmuñoz compare notes.
“We’ll be reminded of something and we’ll share it, and it usually makes us laugh,” Hadley said, adding, “I wish I had appreciated him when I was in his presence the way I appreciate him now. There’s been so much written about Lenny, and probably there hasn’t been anything written about him that was not true – all the good things, and all the not-so-good things. But you can’t really take the measure of the man by either of the extremes because he was all of those things. And he lived a life that was five or six lifetimes in one, don’t you think?” Hadley asked, looking at Diazmuñoz, who nodded in agreement.
“And his genius,” Hadley said, “is the fact that he was this larger than life, eccentric, debauched person, who nevertheless would step onto the podium and it’s almost as if he was possessed by angels. And he would become this vessel for the most incredible stuff. He would make everybody feel – by his presence – like there was nothing there was that we couldn’t do.”
“That’s part of why we call him a genius,” Diazmuñoz said. “He was able to make us do our best, to excel.”
Hadley said he thinks Bernstein achieved this through his ability to get artists to loosen up and not be so obsessed with trying to please others. When he first met Bernstein, Hadley said, he was only a few years out of college, where he’d been “the stereotypical good student.”
“I always did what the professor asked me to do. I was very concerned about pleasing the teacher. And I think it’s a necessary part of what we do as students, to develop that discipline. However, I don’t think that’s what our teachers want us to do. They never voice this, but I think what they want is for us to take what they give us, and then jump out of the nest and fly on our own.”
And that, he added, was the important push Bernstein provided for him.
“When I began to work with Lenny, it just changed everything in an instant because he gave me permission to say, ‘My instincts are fine. So I’m going to have fun.’ That’s why I wanted to be a musician in the first place. There’s this attitude in academia that fun and serious approach or serious preparation don’t go hand in hand. But they do.”
“They must,” Diazmuñoz inserted.
And when all the coaching sessions, the long nights of rehearsals, and the final performances of “Candide” have come and gone, that’s perhaps the single, most important lesson Hadley and Diazmuñoz hope to have passed along – by example – to the production’s student cast.
“Because if it isn’t fun,” said Hadley, “what’s the point?”